Mulanatural
by tucuxia
Summary: Dean Winchester is possibly the worst omega in his town; he's too big, too strong, and way too dominant. When the Matchmaker rejects his suit for a mate and the Huns invade China, he has to pretend to be an alpha to save his brother's life, but he may well lose his own in the process. Worse, he may dishonor his whole family.
1. The Matchmaker

Chapter 1: The Matchmaker

* * *

The last normal day of Dean's life began as any other, with the rooster crowing.

The tall omega groaned and rolled onto his side, ignoring the dog licking at his face as he started making a mental list of the chores he had to tackle before heading into town. This was the day he had to meet with the village Matchmaker, and rumor had it that Crowley was impossible to impress. As the only omega in town with any actual power, he tended to flaunt it to inflate his own sense of self-importance. And now Dean had to convince him that he was worthy of an alpha or beta mate and uphold the Winchester Family Honor.

He slipped into dark pair of loose pants, finding a pair of outdoor slippers to match and grabbing his darkest shirt. Slipping his arms into the loose sleeves, he crossed the lapels over his chest and tied the sash, heading out of his room.

His father was a very wealthy, highly respected noble alpha, with a mate and three children, though one was from a concubine who had left a decade ago. Dean's mother hadn't gotten along with the concubine at all, so John had eventually sent her away, keeping her beta son and raising him along with his older sons. As a retired General from the Emperor's army, John had brought a great deal of honor to the Winchester Family, and it now fell to his children to continue that tradition. As an omega, Dean's only way to ensure that his family remained strong was to put on a good show for the Matchmaker and be assigned to mate one of the village alphas or betas.

Dean finished feeding the chickens and his father's warhorse, eating his breakfast quickly as he brewed a small pot of tea and headed for the family shrine. As expected, he found his father kneeling there, offering a prayer to the Winchester and Campbell ancestors in the hopes that they would protect and guide Dean on this important day. Knowing better than to interrupt his father, Dean knelt behind him and bowed his head, offering his own silent plea.

"You should have already left for town," John scolded, turning to accept the plate holding a teapot and a single cup from his eldest son. "Your mother will be furious if you are late."

"I won't be late," Dean assured him cockily, one of the many alpha traits he had picked up from his father and brother over his twenty years of life. "Besides, I had to make sure that you got your tea this morning since she left early to go to town."

John chuckled as he raised his cup to his lips. Giving himself a moment to savor the beverage, he raised his free hand and made a shooing motion at his child. "You know, if you had listened to Kate better when she had tried to teach you about being an omega, you wouldn't have to go to the Matchmaker today. I could have arranged a marriage for you on my own long ago, but you are not the good little submissive that most alphas are looking for, and you have overpowered every beta you ever met. Crowley is your best bet to find a mate, and you cannot screw that up by being yourself. Please try to remember your lessons."

"I will, Dad," Dean promised, rising to his feet and heading off to find his father's horse and head to town. In the back of his mind, he started to repeat the litany of omega Rules that he would have to know for the Matchmaker, especially the ones that he always screwed up. Inside his father's house, it was acceptable for him to act dominant and talk back, but he would have to bury that part of himself down very deep if he hoped to impress the Matchmaker today.

* * *

"He's late."

Mary raised one eyebrow at Ellen Harvelle, the older, auburn-haired beta raising her hands in surrender. Normally, only omegas would assist on Matchmaker day, but Mary was a beta and didn't really have many friends in town who weren't also betas or alphas like her mate. Garth Fitzgerald-Myers, a skinny toothpick of a man with a heart of gold, was the only exception, and he was glad to help prepare Dean for the day he would finally be assigned a mate. Garth's father, whose name he shared, had found the young man a perfect beta almost two years earlier, the only non-alpha pup of John's old war buddy Jim Myers. Bess and Garth were perfect together, the clear indication that the young man embraced his subgender eagerly, unlike a certain Winchester son.

"Maybe if you had hired an omega tutor earlier, he wouldn't be so rebellious."

"I tried," Mary admitted, "but John took her as a concubine and I couldn't stand her after that. He knows how I feel about sharing."

"Yeah, I know. Even though I couldn't have any more pups after Jo, my mate never dared to hint at wanting a concubine. I wouldn't have blamed him, but it never came up." Ellen, who was just as headstrong and too-alpha as Mary, clenched her jaw and refused to continue that line of conversation, though her friend knew what she was thinking. William Harvelle had died in the last war, one that John, Jim, Bobby Singer, and Rufus Turner had survived. For a long time, Ellen had blamed those four men, and especially John, for her mate's death, but she eventually forgave them all. Now, there were even rumors that she was seeing Bobby, whose own mate had been dead for nearly two decades, and might be considering a trip to the Matchmaker by the end of the year for his blessing.

"I notice that Jo hasn't found a mate yet, either," Mary teased, eager to break her friend's black mood. "Too bad it didn't work out between her and Dean."

"Your son is too much of a handful," Ellen countered. "He doesn't act like an omega, and Jo wants to be the dominant one in her relationships. What Dean really needs is a submissive beta, if one would be willing to take him on."

"We'll have to see what the Matchmaker says," Mary replied, pointing toward a very familiar black stallion thundering down the main street of town. "My prodigal son has finally arrived."

"It took you long enough," Ellen scolded as Dean slipped down from his horse, crossing her arms over her chest as she realized that the boy hadn't even bothered to use a saddle. "If I see you riding barebacked one more time, I will tan your hide so bad you won't sit for a week!"

"Yes, Auntie Ellen," he murmured, dropping his eyes to the ground and bowing his head in a passable imitation of a cowed omega. His sandy-blonde hair, which he kept shoulder-length in a traditional omega style, was tied back from his face with a single strip of leather, though a few strands wiggled free to cover his face when he looked down. Garth stepped forward and grabbed Dean's hands, forcing them to his side and pulling his shoulders into a hunched position.

"Try to do it like that if Crowley scolds you," the older omega offered helpfully, patting his friend on the back. "Also, never look him in the eye."

Dean grunted something incredibly impolite, following meekly as his mother and adopted aunt led him into the shop they had been waiting in front of. Mary tapped Garth on the shoulder and pointed at the folding screen in the corner that was hiding the tub they had painstakingly filled with hot water earlier that morning. "Get him clean while we work on his clothes. Try to make him smell at least halfway like an omega."

"I gotcha, Auntie Mary!" Garth dragged Dean behind the ornate screen as he heard three more omegas, two men and one woman, enter the main room of the shop, presumably carrying the clothes, makeup, and perfumes for Dean's big day. Garth untied Dean's sash and pulled his top off, wrinkling his nose at the dark horsehair as he tossed it away. Dean slipped out of his shoes and pants, slipping into the huge tub and wincing at the temperature.

"It's freezing!"

"It would have been warm if you were here on time," Garth quipped, shoving the taller man into the water and dumping a bucket-full over his head, pulling his hair tie free and tossing it over his shoulder. Dean shivered and watched his fellow omega grab some floral scented soap and a cloth, raising one eyebrow until he took it and started to clean himself. Garth found a popular honey-scented shampoo and went to work on Dean's long hair, humming something to himself. He used a similarly scented conditioner, hoping that it would enhance the omega's natural apple blossom and cinnamon scent. As soon as he was happy with Dean's appearance and that any alpha scent from his father and brother were washed away, Garth helped him out of the tub and handed him a thick towel before leading him out from behind the folding screen.

The three other omegas pounced on Dean, handing him a pair of silky puffed pants, checking the ankles before tying the sash around his waist and tucking the loose ends away out of sight. The next layer was a split skirt that was open in the front and back but covered the outsides of his legs to just below his knees. The material was heavier and more beautiful, a dark burgundy color with heavy gold embroidery along the bottom edge. He held his arms out and patiently waited for them to slip a pale, translucent blue undershirt on, crossing the left side over the right and fastening it in place with two mother-of-pearl buttons and covering it with a dark pink over shirt trimmed in dark purple. He had time to admire the shimmering gold threads down the trim as this shirt, also, was crossed left over right and held in place with two tiny buttons. He hated this shade of pink, but he knew that it was the auspicious color for omegas this year and all of the males presented to the Matchmaker would be wearing the same outfit.

The female omega raised Dean's arms above his head and gestured for him to hold still, one male holding up the incredibly wide belt piece while the other wrapped a bright red sash around him to hold it in place. The top of the belt sat just over the bottom of his pectorals and the bottom reached the top of his thighs. He hated formal omega dress; alphas never had to wear so many ridiculous, colorful, and constricting layers and they didn't have to perform in groups like this. He felt Garth pinch his arm, scolding him for the sudden stiffness that indicated his rising anger. Today he had to behave like a meek little omega, so he forced himself to relax as he was allowed to lower his arms. The sleeves were huge, reaching just to his wrist but hanging much lower, another fashion he was less than fond of. He glanced down at the red sash holding his belt, not surprised to see fine gold embroidery in the cloth as his mother fasted a number of tiny charms into the fabric. Each one represented one of his father's accomplishments in the war or one of Mary's before she was mated to him. The more charms an omega could boast, the more marketable he was to a potential mate.

Mary helped him into a pair of gold-embroidered white slippers while one of the omegas began to brush white powder onto his face and line his eyes with black charcoal. Garth took it upon himself to brush out Dean's normally unruly hair, using a few strategically placed braids to contain the shorter strands as he twisted most of it in a knot on top of his head. Dean had spent most of his life outside, working on the farm with his father, and his skin was tanned to a similar shade. Omegas were meant to be gentle, docile, indoor creatures, so they were encouraged to wear white makeup in public to maintain this illusion. They smudged a dark powder over his eyes and clipped golden cuffs over the outside edges of his ears, settling a red crown-like hat on his light brown hair and using a trio of golden combs to hold it in place.

"It would be better if his hair was black," the taller of the two male omegas groused, twisting the hat in an attempt to position it better before pinning it to the twisted knot Garth had created. He slipped a trio of ornate hair sticks into the knot, fiddling with the charms that hung from the black lacquered wood. "Doesn't your husband have black hair?"

"Yes, but all of his sons are brunettes. His hair is the middle shade among them."

"It'll have to do. Crowley is known to prefer omegas with dark hair, but it's of no import." Dean started to stiffen in offense, Garth's sharp glare silencing his protest. The female omega sorted through a tray of perfumes, choosing one that smelled like cherry blossom, a very popular scent among fashionable families this year. Dean stood silently as she touched the tiny glass bulb to the hollow of his throat and the inside of each wrist, covering his own natural cinnamon and apple blossom scent and any alpha musk he may have picked up from his father or younger brother that the bath hadn't been able to remove. Even he knew that the Matchmaker would not tolerate an insult that great. Mary pointed at a string of jade beads on the table nearby, and Garth carefully slipped them over Dean's head, approving of the way the rich color made Dean's green eyes pop.

Finally ready for his presentation, Dean bowed his head and meekly followed Garth out of the dress shop. The slim omega would be presenting him, since he didn't have any omega family members to speak for him. Mary blew him a kiss and Ellen wished him luck, neither daring to touch him and ruin the subtle perfume that they had paid so much for. The women followed at a discrete distance, watching as another half-dozen omegas with their presenters joined Dean on the path to the Matchmaker's home.

Garth leaned close to Dean, the slim omega tall enough to whisper in his friend's ear. "Dean, I have a gift for you, a good luck charm that helped me when I had stand before the Matchmaker and ask permission to mate Bess." He surreptitiously passed a small wooden cage over to his friend, Dean's eyes widening at the tiny purple cricket inside.

"Garth, I can't carry a cricket into the Matchmaker's hut! This is crazy."

"Trust me, Dean! It'll help." He tucked the cage under the right outer skirt "leg", hooking it to the sash holding Dean's pants and grinning. "Crowley won't even see it."

They reached the Matchmaker's house exactly two hours after dawn, the seven omegas kneeling on the cobblestones in front of Crowley's porch, heads bowed and shoulders tucked forward in submission. Dean had heard that in some towns, more rural ones farther from the Emperor's city, the Matchmaker would make the omegas, male or female, kneel for hours in front of their house before finally emerging to hear their cases. Fergus Crowley was demanding and could be cruel, but he had never been that malicious.

Perfectly on time, the short, slightly stocky omega emerged from his house, glaring down his nose at the gathered men. Crowley silently examined the gathered omegas, dressed in his finest robes with plenty of gold and gems to flaunt his high position, running his fingers through his short beard as he considered the gathered men. He carried a board in one hand with a scroll pinned to it, containing the list of names and any relevant information about each omega. Dean didn't dare look up from his kneeling position, but he knew that there was very little good on there about him. He was a known troublemaker, an omega who spoke out of turn and got into more fights than most alphas, one who had been rejected for many private mating offers and had to be sent before the Matchmaker as a last resort. Most of the other omegas with him had not had any mating requests at all or were from poor families, and only the Matchmaker would be able to convince and alpha or beta to take them on as mates. Dean's father could afford a huge dowry, but it hadn't helped to fetch him a partner.

"Winchester." Crowley practically hissed the name, tapping on his board with his brush before making a mark by Dean's name. The omega stood slowly, careful not to wrinkle or tear his expensive clothes, and silently followed the Matchmaker into his hut, never letting his eyes rise above Crowley's knees. This man held an official position that ranked him among the alphas of the village, even though he was himself unmated, so looking him in the eye would be incredibly disrespectful.

"Winchester, I wondered when I would see you in here," Crowley oozed, taking a seat at the table in his main room and tapping his fingers on the lacquered surface. "You've not had much luck with the alphas in town, have you?"

Dean shook his head, knowing better than to speak up. When he concentrated very hard, he really could remember all of the omega Rules.

"Well, show me what you've got. If I'm going to market you in the nearby towns, I need to make sure that you are worthy of a mating."

Dean nodded and began to list his lessons in his mind, glancing at the ornate teapot on the table. Carefully gathering the ingredients, he mixed them into the boiling water and stirred it, carefully pouring a cup for Crowley before kneeling down on one of the pillows beside the table. He watched Crowley reach for the cup, eyes widening in horror as the purple cricket that had been safely in his cage jumped onto the rim and waved his tiny antenna toward the black-haired Matchmaker. Crowley had closed his eyes to sniff the tea and evaluate the mix, but he was going to notice the cricket at any moment.

"Um, excuse me . . ."

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows without opening his eyes, tightening his fingers on the porcelain cup. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak, omega."

"I'm sorry, I just . . . the tea, it's not ready . . ."

"It smells fine to me. Now be quiet like a good little omega."

Dean clenched his fists in frustration, reaching out carefully to pluck the tiny cricket off of the cup before Crowley could take a sip, but he misjudge the distance and his fingers brushed the Matchmaker's as he cupped the bug into his hand.

Crowley's eyes flew open and he slammed the cup onto the table, spilling tea everywhere as he shoved himself to his feet. "What the hell do you think you are doing? Is that a fucking cricket? Are you putting a bug into my tea?!"

"No, of course not!"

"Don't lie to me, pup! I see the damn thing in your hand."

"I wasn't putting it in your tea," Dean argued, stiffening his shoulders against Crowley's words. The purple cricket, wisely, returned to his cage and huddled in the corner, narrowly escaping the Matchmaker as he leaned across the table and grabbed at him. "I was catching it!"

"Now I see why no alpha will have you," Crowley growled, his dark brown eyes flashing with fury. Dean's instinctive reaction was to growl back, to get in Crowley's face and make the older omega back down, but he struggled to remember the correct _omega_ response to this situation. Clearly, his indecision was visible, the Matchmaker reaching out to slap him across the face. "Don't you dare think about growling at me!"

It was too much to ask Dean to contain his reaction a second time, the white paint on his face concealing the red mark from Crowley's hand but doing nothing to dull the pain. He leaned forward and growled, narrowing his eyes as he snapped his teeth at the older man. Crowley stepped back in shock, his cheeks turning red under the faint while powder he wore. Dean realized his mistake, backing down instantly, but it was too late to placate the Matchmaker.

"Please, Sir, I'm sorry! I can do better, I can! I can behave . . ." Even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow. Dean didn't believe he could ever learn to be a proper omega, could ever learn not to speak out of turn or snap his teeth at peopl who disrespected him. And, clearly, Crowley didn't believe it either.

The Matchmaker grabbed his arm, jerking him toward the door of his hut, his clipboard and brush left behind on the table that was now covered in tea. "You stupid, arrogant, _useless_ omega! Your father should have beaten some sense into you long ago, and now he's the only alpha who will ever have to put up with your _insolence_! You may _look_ like an omega, but you will never bring your family honor!" Crowley threw Dean down the stairs as he yelled the last words, Garth moving to his friend's side in shock as Mary and Ellen watched, speechless, from the sidelines.

The Matchmaker sneered at the disgraced omega, glancing at the other gathered boys, none of whom had dared to move a muscle during the confrontation, before turning back to his hut and vanishing inside. He would clean up and fix his makeup before continuing with the omega tests, but Dean would never again be allowed to present himself as a potential mate.

Dean sobbed into Garth's shoulder, letting the omega and his mother pull him to his feet and lead him away. He couldn't see through his tears, couldn't do anything but repeat Crowley's words over and over again in his mind, head and shoulders slumped as he followed his family back to the shop. Crowley was right; he hadn't been able to keep from talking back or growling; he even snapped his teeth at the matchmaker, something omegas _never_ did, even to each other. He had memorized the rules, but he responded incorrectly to _every_ situation, acting like an alpha even though he had no right to do so.

Dean was vaguely aware of his mother and aunt helping him onto the horse, now wearing a pad cinched around his chest to prevent any transfer of horsehair to the omega's expensive clothes. Mary jumped up behind him, taking the reins and pointing Khan back toward her home. There was nothing else she could do; Dean was disgraced.

* * *

Dean didn't speak during the entire ride home, staring at Khan's neck as the big black stallion plodded slowly down the road. Mary shifted the reins to one hand and ran her other one down her eldest son's arm, but the omega didn't respond. She hoped that her mate would have more luck with the boy.

John was waiting for them when they reached the estate, his face falling as he took in Dean's slumped, dejected form. Mary dismounted the horse first, holding his reins as Dean slipped off and started heading for the house. "Do you need me to help you get out of those clothes?"

"No, Mom," Dean murmured, hands hidden in the folds of his huge sleeves as he continued on his path to the house, not even looking up at his father. "I'll take care of it myself."

John waited until Dean was out of earshot before taking Khan's reigns, leading the stallion back to his field with Mary by his side. "What happened?"

"Crowley provoked him and he broke. I warned you this would happen."

"Mary, don't." John ran a hand through his graying stubble, slipping the reigns off of his horse's head as Mary took the saddle pad and hung them in the barn nearby. "I know he's headstrong and talks back too much, but surely he wouldn't intentionally snap at Crowley. He knows the rules; he learned the lessons like he was supposed to."

Mary shrugged and glanced back toward the house. "Sometimes I think that I should have let Kate stay and train Dean. I know it's hard for an omega to be raised without some sort of guide. He wasn't ready for the Matchmaker today."

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Mary, and I know that having Kate around distressed you. Crowley has had it out for me ever since he inherited the Matchmaker title and I made it clear that I can find mates for my own children. I already have prospects for Sam and Adam when they come of age, but Dean is just a little more of a handful." He leaned against the huge tree near the shrine to their ancestors, pale eyes watching Dean emerge from the house at last and head toward the garden in the center of their estate. "Keep the other boys indoors for a while; I will speak with Dean."

John found his oldest son sitting on a bench overlooking the small pond in the center of the garden. Cherry blossoms bloomed overhead, and a small purple cricket sat on a branch nearby, chirping mournfully at the boy. Even with his long hair tied back and clad in his green and gray working outfit, Dean was lovely, a sad omega painted against the brilliant jewel tones of the exquisite garden. It still baffled the old alpha general that no one wanted his son and that the town's matchmaker had rejected him so soundly.

Dean sensed his father's presence almost immediately, looking up from his silent reflections and wiping the tears from his eyes. Dean's eyes were the bright, clear green color of imperial jade, a sharp contrast to the blues and hazels seen in the rest of his family. When the boy was born, John was already a decorated hero of the army, so the Emperor had gifted him a beautiful set of jade jewelry that John kept locked safely away in the omega's dowry box. He would wear the jewels on his mating day, and John was determined that his oldest son would have one.

"You know, I think today is the first time I have ever seen you in formal omega robes."

Dean snorted and turned away as his father joined him on the bench. "Yeah, probably the last time, too. Crowley will never accept my suit again." He stared at his tanned hands, at the rough calluses on his fingers from a lifetime of working the land, to his nails that were clean and neatly trimmed for possibly the first time in his life. "Crowley said you should have beaten me more."

"Dean!"

"He's not wrong, Dad! Have you ever seen an omega talk back like I do, growl at alphas, betas, and omegas no matter their rank, or snap his teeth at his betters? Dad, I'm a terrible omega, and I can't do anything right. I can cook, I can clean, and I can raise pups, but I'll never be proper enough for an alpha to want me. I can't even go outside without breaking a dozen rules!"

"Dean, Crowley isn't our last resort."

"We shouldn't need a last resort!" Dean turned furious emerald eyes toward his father, his cheeks flushed enough to make his freckles stand out. "Sam and Adam don't cause you any grief, but I can't even keep my mouth shut for five minutes in the Matchmaker's hut. No alpha in town will have me, and now no Matchmaker for ten miles will see me." He dropped his head, tears dripping on his hands as he struggled to control his voice. "I just want what Mom has; a safe home, a loving mate, and pups. I don't even know if you could sell me as a concubine after what Crowley said in town."

John sighed and wrapped an arm around his son's shoulder, pulling the resisting omega against his side. "I'm not going to sell you as a concubine, Dean. You'd never be happy."

"I would have an alpha," Dean argued, sniffing back his tears. "I would have pups."

"You would have no rights to them. You were there when I had to send Kate away; I was fond of her, and I thought she was good for you, but her presence caused your mother distress and I felt it through our bond. Adam stayed with us, and Kate went to the Imperial City. Do you want to live your life under the threat of being sent away if your alpha's mate grows tired of you? Do you want to risk never seeing your pups again?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

"I didn't think so. Dean, I know you're unhappy now, but don't devalue yourself so. You can and will be a perfect mate for someone, just not someone in this town."

"Or any other town between here and the mountains. You should have mated me away when I was younger, when I was fifteen and still scrawny enough to look like a proper omega."

"First off, you hadn't even presented then and you know the law against mating off unpresented pups. Second, any alpha who wanted you only because of your physical appearance at the age of fifteen would never make you happy. You don't want a master, you want an equal. It's not wrong to want that, Dean; I got that with your mother and I would never have been happy with some meek, obedient mate who never stood up to me or talked back. I love her, and we have been happy together for twenty-five wonderful years. I want that for you."

"Thank you," Dean whispered, "but I don't—"

"And third," John continued as if Dean hadn't spoken, "we still have all of the cities _beyond_ the mountains to think of."

"What?"

John smiled and turned his gaze north toward those very snow-capped peaks towering solemnly over the lands. The Imperial City was nestled in the center of those protective peaks, with the land falling down to the sea on the other side. "You seem to forget that I am one of the most highly-decorated generals in the Emperor's army. If I ask to see him, he will accept my suit. I can ask his personal Matchmaker to find you a suitable mate, either among the nobles of the Imperial City or even the Emperor's own children. I know that you prefer alpha males, and the Emperor has fathered a good dozen of those, four with his mate and consort the Empress Naomi, the rest with his beloved concubines. Any of them would be suitable for you, if you don't mind moving to the Imperial City."

Dean looked up at his father in wonder, the tears clearing from his eyes. "You'd do that? You'd use your relationship with the Emperor to find me a mate?"

"A suitable mate," John clarified. "One who will be happy with a big, strong, outspoken male omega to be his equal. I think you'll find that people in the Imperial City aren't as insistent on what Crowley would term 'omega norms' as we are here."

"Thank you, Dad," Dean breathed. "That makes me feel a lot better about today."

"Think about the look on Crowley's face when you mate one of the Emperor's sons. He'll lose his mind."

Dean chuckled, the first sign of joy he had shown since he was forcibly removed from the dark-haired Matchmaker's hut. "He'll be furious at you. He'll have to think about finding a new profession if you can do his job better than he can."

John grinned and squeezed his son's shoulder. "That omega needs to get laid. Seriously." Dean nodded in agreement, wiping the last of his tears away. "Are you ready to go inside and help your mother with lunch?"

"Yeah, I am. Thanks, Dad."

* * *

"Hey, Dean?"

The omega looked up from the walkway he was sweeping, smiling at Jo as the alpha nervously approached him. "Hey, Jo; didn't expect to see you here today."

"I'm sorry about what happened at the Matchmaker's." Clearly the blonde alpha had come on a mission, so Dean leaned his broom up against the house and brushed his shirt off.

"It's alright, Jo. I was devastated, but my dad has a plan to help me find a mate."

"I'd do it, you know. I'd gladly mate you if it meant that you wouldn't be pawned off on some old creeper or sold as a concubine."

Dean smiled and reached out to hug his friend, feeling her tension slowly ebb away. Typically, alphas and omegas would never touch in public unless they were related, but he considered Jo more like a sister than anything else. "We would never be happy together, Jo. You're as much part of my family as Sam or Adam, and I don't think you could ever see me as anything other than an annoying older brother. Dad's not going to mate me to some geezer and he won't sell me as a concubine." He neglected to mention that he had asked John to do just that at the depths of his despair. "We're going to the Imperial City to speak with some of his old contacts from the war. He has high hopes."

"That's great!" Jo patted the omega on his back, all of her previous sorrow gone. "You should have no trouble finding a good alpha there. A _male_ alpha, which I know is your preference."

Dean grinned and dripped his head. "Yeah, it is. Even though omegas aren't supposed to have preferences."

"Yeah, well, your dad loves you enough to want you to be happy, truly happy, with your mate. You're lucky to have him."

"I really am." Before he could say anything else, the omega tensed as the village drums began to sound. Glancing up at the watchtower to the north, he could see the two big alphas pounding on the stretched skin, counting the beats as he recognized the pattern that meant _Messenger from the Imperial City_. Intrigued, he dropped his broom and headed out of the front gate of his father's estate, Jo on his heels.

The shop where Dean had prepared for his meeting with the Matchmaker was on the other side of town, but thankfully the Lord's house and town meeting hall were much closer. The two reached it in a matter of minutes, joining the crowd gathered loosely around a tall, aristocratic snow-white gelding carrying a diminutive, graying, slightly overweight Imperial functionary. Dean grinned at the way the horse pranced, ignoring his rider's demands to still and stand quietly while the old man spoke with Lord Daniel.

Dean and Jo spotted Ellen and Bobby standing near the lord, their noble blood giving them the right to be involved in the conversation. His own father joined the pair a few moments later, still walking stiffly from an injury he gained in the war that never healed correctly. Sam, Adam, and Mary joined Dean, Jo heading for her mother's side as Rufus Turner and Jody Mills slipped through the throng to stand with Mary. Rufus wasn't noble, and Jody preferred to ignore her tiny drop of noble blood that would have forced her to interact with the aging functionary.

"What's going on?"

Mary shrugged, checking to make sure that Dean was keeping a close eye on Adam before returning her attention to the commotion. "I think that's Metatron, the Emperor's scribe. I don't know what he would be doing so far from the mountains, without guards, especially since he hates riding horses."

"It must be important," Rufus pointed out. "He has a roll of scrolls in his saddlebag."

Mary sucked in a quick breath, icy shock freezing her in place. She remembered the last time a man from the Imperial City had come to her hometown with a bag of scrolls; her older alpha brother had been conscripted into the army, along with three of her cousins and John. Only her mate had ever returned.

The aging beta raised his hand for silence as Lord Daniel moved away. "There is no delicate way to put this, so I'll just say it. The Huns have invaded China!" The crowd gasped, some of parents pulling their younger and omega children close, as if to protect them from the harsh reality of war. Dean was grateful that his mother would never do something so demeaning to him, though he did feel Adam tuck his lean fifteen-year-old body into his side. Sam, his hazel eyes almost brown with fear, still managed to stand up to his full, six-foot-five height and puff out his chest in an alpha display of dominance. Many of the other alphas in the crowd were doing the same, even John standing up taller.

"What does the Emperor order, Metatron?" John stepped closer as he asked the question, the faintest thread of respect in his voice. He didn't like the old scribe, never had, but it took a great deal of courage for a beta to serve on the Council amongst alphas, and even more for him to travel so far on his own to bring this news.

"The army needs new conscripts. The Emperor orders that one alpha or beta from every family of at least three members will serve, and volunteers from smaller families will be rewarded with lands and titles when the threat is neutralized." Metatron reached into his saddlebag and pulled forth a collection of scrolls, each one stamped with a family crest. "The Fox family!"

Asa Fox, a middle-aged redheaded alpha with a mate and twin teenage pups, stepped forward, bowing his head as he accepted the scroll. "It will be an honor to serve the Emperor."

Metatron nodded. "Report to the Black Forest Camp at dawn." He pulled out the second scroll, glancing at the name before looking out into the crowd. "The Tempest Family!"

Malachi, an older alpha with three pups, stepped forward, leaning heavily on his cane as he reached for the scroll. He had fought bravely in the last war, though not with John's unit, and had returned home only to lose his mate in labor with their youngest pup, Sophia. The young omega female clung to her beta brother's hand, Ezekiel sighing and glancing at the ground. The war would kill their father; he was too old and too broken to fight.

Azrael, their oldest brother, stepped forward, placing a hand on his father's arm. He was a tall, well-built alpha who wished to earn a good mate from the Matchmaker, and he had even once spoken with John about courting Dean. Nothing had come of it, of course, because he wanted a more submissive mate, but he was a good man. "I will serve the Emperor in my father's place."

Metatron grinned, showing his crooked teeth in something that was supposed to look like pride but came across as a half-assed threat display. Dean almost rolled his eyes as the beta handed over the scroll. "Black Forest camp for you, also."

"The Winchester Family!"

John bowed his head at the inevitability of the summons, glancing at Mary for only a moment before stepping forward. His blonde mate, tears in her eyes, gasped as their middle son ran forward, holding his hand out for the scroll and blocking the stockier alpha. "Dad, let me go. I'm old enough to fight."

"No!" Dean hadn't planned to speak, had tried really, really hard to play the part of the mute omega, but he _couldn't_ watch his little brother run off to die. He dashed forward, pulling Sam back as the crowd began to murmur and growl at his audacity. "Sammy, you can't! You've only just barely presented; you're not old enough to fight."

Sam, his eyes flashing alpha red, jerked back from his brother's grasp, growling as Metatron sneered from the top of his horse. "Silence, omega!" The scribe turned to face John, sneering at the big alpha. "You would do well to teach your _pup_ to hold his tongue in the presence of his betters. I would think you could teach him better manners, Winchester; an _omega_ , arguing with an _alpha_ in public?"

John growled low in his throat, glancing sideways at his oldest son without quite making eye contact. "Dean, you dishonor me."

Those simple words, more than his brother's flashing eyes, froze the tall omega, shame washing through him. It was all he did recently, dishonor his father and his family. Shaking, Dean closed his eyes and backed away, Adam pressed tightly against his back as Sam watched him, a touch of pity in his green-hazel eyes. John reached out to take the scroll, silently handing it to his alpha son as both of them bowed to the scribe. Since the Winchesters were nobles, Sam was assigned to a different camp, one closer to the Imperial City and one filled with the scions of other proud, noble lines. "Report at dawn to the Crystal Lake camp!"

Dean didn't pay attention to anything after that, staring at the ground as he stood beside his mother and held Adam close. Sam stayed with John, his status as the alpha son of a powerful town noble giving him the right to do what Dean could not. As soon as Metatron finished with his bag of scrolls, he opened the floor to volunteers, John turning away from the chaos to lead his family home. For the first time in his life, Dean walked in the proper position in the procession, behind his parents and alpha brother, in the back with the unpresented pup. All he could think as he watch his brother walk so tall and proud in front of him was that Sammy was going to war. His little brother, just barely presented, was going to die.


	2. The Imperial Army

Chapter 2: The Imperial Army

* * *

John smiled as he led Sam to the weapons room where he kept his old armor and weapons from the last war. His son was a few inches taller than him, but most of it would fit just fine, and the army would provide everything else that the young alpha needed. Sam carefully lifted the long, dragon-hilted _jian_ sword, his huge hands closing surely on the black-scaled grip, the wide blade shining in the early afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. John nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, asking his alpha son to demonstrate a few of the basic sword drills that he had shown him over the past decade.

Dean, tucked against the wall just outside the door where he wouldn't be seen, watched his brother exhibit the moves, his motions smooth and sure. The omega felt a flutter of hope in his chest that his brother had learned enough from their father to thrive in the army camp, to push back the Huns and bring honor to the family in the only way an alpha could, but that fragile faith shattered an instant later as Sam misjudged his steps and faltered, dropping the sword to the floor. He reached down to pick it up, withering under John's harsh, red-tinged glare.

"You are sixteen years old, Sam," John growled, reaching out to jerk the boy to his feet and shove him back into the correct position. "If you had been doing your sword drills for the past decade like I _ordered_ you to, you wouldn't be so damn clumsy now!"

"I'm sorry, Dad! I just . . . other things got in the way."

"Yes, your useless scholarly adventures," the older alpha scoffed, slapping Sam's arm when he fumbled another move. "Books are for betas, Sam, and omegas. They have the time to sit back and read and think about the philosophies of the universe, but alphas are built to fight! We are fierce warriors, and we must always be ready to prove ourselves! How can you ever hope to win the hand of a noble young omega if you can't even hold a damn sword correctly?"

Sam's face pinched with pain, the hand holding his sword shaking slightly. "I don't want an omega who only cares about my physical size and fighting prowess. Dad, you know that!"

"And _after_ you are suitably mated, he or she can learn to live with your eccentricities. By the Ancestors, how did I end up with two sons so disdainful of their natures? You must fight and be strong in order to win a mate. At least with Dean, he can learn to be quiet long enough for an alpha to accept him, but you will _never_ find a suitable mate if you fail at this! Sam, if you can't distinguish yourself fighting the Huns, then do yourself a favor and at least die with honor so you don't have to come back and live in disgrace as the _alpha no omega will have_!"

Sam had his back to John as the old alpha finished, tears filling his eyes that he _could not_ shed in front of his father. He tightened his grip on the sword and moved his leg forward, correcting his posture for the next drill. "Of course, Dad," he ground out, hoping that he had prevented any of his despair from leaking into his voice. He failed, of course, if the narrowing of John's eyes was any indication, but the older alpha just barked out the next drill and pushed him through it.

Hiding by the door, his hands trembling by his side, Dean watched tears streak down Sam's face, his own heart aching at his brother's pain. How could he have been so wrapped up in his own failings that he missed Sam's struggle? His brother had stepped forward to take the scroll in the hopes of showing John that he was a proper alpha, but he knew that he would never survive the army. He was tall and strong, but rangy and clumsy, something that would be suitable in a beta but was unacceptable in the more dominant subgender. John thought that Sam was even more beyond saving than Dean, than the omega who had been bodily removed from the Matchmaker's hut only that morning, and Sam's only hope to prove him wrong was to live long enough to die at the hands of the Huns.

Damn these stupid, archaic subgender laws that prevented an omega as big, strong, and graceful as Dean from fighting in an army that was perfectly happy to chew up his scholarly younger brother and spit him out at the Ancestors' feet. And damn the Ancestors, too, for demanding such a blood sacrifice!

* * *

Dinner was an awkward affair; Ellen, Jo, and Bobby had joined them for the evening meal. It was pretty common for the three to eat with the Winchesters, especially since Dean loved to cook with Ellen, but tonight the tension was palpable. Jo glared at her vegetables, stabbing them with her chopsticks but not eating any of them, and Dean pushed his rice around the plate in a similar sulking fashion. "What is eating you, Jo?"

Ellen growled at Mary's question, the noise so out-of-character for her that Dean looked up in shock. "She volunteered to fight, against my direct orders."

Jo snorted, resolutely refusing to look up from her food. "You can't order me around, Mom. I presented three years ago; as an alpha I technically outrank you." She muttered the words softly, without any heat, and it was clear that the two women had argued about this before. "Besides, you're going to mate Bobby before the end of the year and that makes us a family of three. If the order for conscription comes again, I'll have to go anyway and we won't get the extra land or the bump in our rank. We aren't noble enough for me to ignore this, Mom. Hell, we aren't even noble enough for me to be sent to Crystal Lake."

"What's the point of earning that nobility if you are dead, Joanna Beth?" Nobility laws were fickle things; Ellen's family had been higher ranked than her mate's, but since her subgender was the hierarchically lower of Jo's parents, the alpha pup could only inherit her father's position in society. The bump in nobility offered by Metatron would apply to her and her mother, granting them better titles, more land, and a seat on the town council.

Jo finally looked up from her food, reaching across the table to take her mother's hand as the older woman's face slowly softened. "To bring honor to my family. Mom, I have no intention of dying; I'm strong and I've been practicing with Dad's swords my whole life. I'm ready for this, and someone has to be brave enough to defend us from the Huns. If not me, then who?"

Bobby smiled through his graying beard, reaching out to clasp one hand on Ellen's shoulder and squeeze it gently. "Girl's right, Ellen. Even if she doesn't go today, she may be conscripted later, and she'll have to fight either way. It's her choice."

"I know it is, but that doesn't make this any easier." Dean watched Sam's reactions to the conversation from across the table, noting his brother's white-knuckled grip on his cup and the paleness of his normally-vibrant hazel eyes. His training session had not improved over the course of the afternoon, and John's displeasure was still acutely obvious in his stiff posture and refusal to glance at the teen sitting to his left.

Dean reached across the table and touched his brother's hand, smiling softly in an effort to calm the younger Winchester son. "Sammy, you shouldn't have to go. You're only sixteen."

"The Emperor says that an alpha or beta may fight as soon as they are presented," Sam replied quickly, clearly offering the answer that John had drilled into his head since he was old enough to hold a sword. "It's honorable to fight."

"Yeah, well, throwing a teenager against an army of trained Huns is not my idea of honor."

Sam glanced up at his brother, carefully placing his cup on the table as he felt his father turn to watch the interaction. "Dean, I have to go. I've been conscripted."

"There are plenty of young alphas to fight for China!" The omega felt his face flush as anger began to overtake his desire to behave, but he didn't want his brother to die. The implied end of that sentence, _ones who can actually hold a sword_ , hung in the air between them.

Sam's eyes darkened to the brownest shade they could manage, the scent of his own anger joining Dean's in the dining room. Their family members just watched the confrontation in silence, knowing that the boys had to work this out on their own. "It is an honor to protect my country and my family." This time his words were stronger, surer, and it was clear that he was beginning to believe that. He spoke slowly, his measured words either an attempt to prove his own strength or contain his growing anger, but Dean couldn't tell which.

"So you'll die for honor," Dean snapped, his eyes darkening as he struggled to keep his despair from leaking into his scent.

"I will die doing what is right." Still calm, still measured, still determined.

"But if you—"

Sam snapped his teeth, the long canines that marked him as an alpha flashing in the light. The display of dominance had never bothered Dean before, especially since he was as strong as his brother and his own sharp canines were unusually long for an omega, but this time the action silenced him. "You know what, Dean, I know my place, okay? I do. Maybe . . . maybe it's time you learned yours."

Sam's words slammed into his older brother, knocking the breath out of him as Mary gasped and Adam whined softly. Dean couldn't control the dark, bitter scent of omega despair that flooded the room, swallowing audibly as he pushed himself to his feet and ran out the door, tears in his pale green eyes. His brother had never once in his sixteen years mentioned the disparity in their subgenders, their societal ranks before, but it was clear that he had meant his words.

Stumbling slightly as tears clouded his vision, Dean found himself at the great stone dragon statue that overlooked the reflecting pool in their small inner courtyard. Scrubbing at his eyes, the omega settled into the depression between the dragon's huge paws, pulling his knees up to his chest as he fought the urge to give into his sorrow again.

"Dean?"

The omega looked up as his youngest brother stood on the path at the edge of the pool, blue eyes sad as he watched his brother. Adam was only a few months younger than Sam, and Dean felt a shock of fear that this boy, too, could be conscripted if the Huns were not pushed back to their lands quickly enough. Betas didn't have any kind of physiological presentation like an alpha's rut or an omega's first heat, so he would be considered an adult on his sixteenth birthday, and he could be forced to fight as soon as that. Unable to hold back a fresh stream of tears at that thought, Dean opened his arms in an invitation, smiling as Adam crawled up into his lap. The teen was almost too big for Dean to hold him now, already almost six feet tall, but the omega would always be willing to cuddle his youngest sibling.

"Are you okay? Sam was pretty mean back there."

"He was right," Dean replied gruffly. "He's an alpha; even if he isn't trained and isn't ready, it _is_ his place to fight when the Emperor calls him. It's my place to stay home and behave long enough to find a mate who will pup me and provide the next generation of warriors to defend China. That's just how the world works."

Adam closed his eyes, the faint souring of his natural bergamot and ginger scent Dean's warning that his words had upset the pup. "I'm going to be sixteen soon; is it going to be my place to fight the Huns, also? I've never . . . I've never held a sword before."

"I know, Adam. I don't want you to have to fight. I don't want Sammy to have to fight." He felt the flicker of an idea flash through his mind, reaching out to grab it as it struggled to slip away. It was an audacious, terrifying, and _completely illegal_ plan, but it might work. "What if I told you that I have a way to keep both of you from going to war?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean bit his lip and glanced down into the still water, watching the last rays of the vanishing sun set fire to the small pond. "Remember last spring when Jo took me to Three Peaks Village to meet with her favorite merchant caravan?"

"Yeah, I remember. You brought me that golden elephant and Sam some silks for his mating day. I still love that elephant; I'd like to see one for real someday."

Dean nodded. "Right. Well, what we didn't tell anyone is that, on the way back, we made a detour to a secluded clearing in the mountains where a bunch of young alphas were holding a tournament. Jo really wanted to enter, but as an unmated omega I would have been in danger there. So she talked to her merchant friends and they gave her some ointments, tea, and oils that I could use to hide my subgender. I, uh, posed as an alpha and won the tournament."

Adam's light blue eyes widened in shock, his scent spiking. "Omegas are forbidden by law from hiding themselves. Posing as an alpha . . . Dean, it's punishable by death."

"Which is why I never told you. But now I can use those supplies again to hide my scent and take Sam's place in the Imperial Army."

"Dean, you can't! You'll be found out and killed."

"Or I won't be found out," the omega countered. "What choice do I have? I can't lose either one of you. If you had seen Sam practicing earlier . . . he'll be eaten alive in that camp. He's tall, but he's no match for the noble alpha sons that will be in training with him. I can hold my own against them, and I can fight the Huns in his place. If I take his conscription notice with me, he can't go and he won't die."

"Dean, _you_ could die," Adam whispered, cuddling deeper into his brother's arms. "I don't want you to die either."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes, letting his youngest brother's scent wash over him. "Of the three of us, Adam, I'm the only one who has a chance in hell of coming back."

"But what if you don't?"

The omega took a deep, calming breath, hoping to keep any of his fears from leaking into his scent. "I might not, Adam, but what kind of future will I have if both of you die? I wouldn't survive it; I'm not strong enough for that. And my other option is to stay here and grow old as the omega that no alpha will have. At least if I die at war, I will bring some honor to our family. It the least I can do after failing so miserably at the Matchmaker's hut."

"I don't . . . I don't want to lose you, Dean. I know Sam is angry right now, but he doesn't want to lose you, either."

"I'll survive, Adam. I'll come back to you."

"What can I do to help?"

* * *

Dean packed his bag, carefully protecting the jars and bottles that contained the precious herbs, ointments, and oils he would need to perpetrate his deception. Adam had stolen their father's armor and weapons, sneaking them through the empty, midnight halls and into Dean's wing of their home. The omega slipped out of his working clothes and fastened his father's armor on, glad to find that it fit perfectly. Adam helped him adjust the straps and pack the weapons, Dean glancing at his reflection in the mirror above his makeup bench. He stared at his hair, the long, dark blonde strands struggling free from the simple ponytail, sighing as he reached for one of the knives in his bag. "Alphas don't really wear their hair long, do they?"

"No. Females might, like Jo, but males don't. Sam is kinda the exception."

Dean nodded and sliced through his hair, carefully cutting it into a short, slightly mussed style similar to his father's, turning to Adam and waving toward his new haircut. "How does it look?"

Adam rolled his eyes and dug through Dean's drawers for a pair of scissors with mother-of-pearl handles, reaching up to trim his brother's hair into something a little neater. "There, that'll work. Dean, how are you going to deal with a camp full of alphas? Aren't you worried about . . . you know . . . getting overwhelmed by that?"

Dean chuckled as he cleaned the hair off of his table and bench. "You want to know if I'm going to soak through my pants or go into a spontaneous heat as soon as I scent a bunch of dominant, horny alphas? Please. I'm way too old to lose control of myself like that. And, even if I did, I have some charcoal and oils that will cover the scent and drops for my eyes. The merchant told me that these eye drops were extracted from some foreign flower that will dull my eye color slightly and prevent any omega gold from showing. I'll be alright, Adam."

The beta nodded, silently following his brother out to the barn. The clouds that had threatened them earlier that night had begun to rain, covering the stars and making the journey across their yard more difficult than usual. Dean paused at the family shrine, swallowing sharply before slipping inside and silently lighting an incense, bowing his head as he touched the stone with his grandfather's name on it. Henry Winchester absolutely would not have approved of his plan, but he hoped that his ancestors would protect him nonetheless.

Khan didn't recognize Dean when he first approached; the combination of the omega's new haircut and his new, harsher scent frightening the poor beast. Adam calmed him down, helping his brother tack the horse and mount, pale blue eyes watching as Dean settled onto the black beast. "Take care of yourself, Dean," Adam managed, hand resting on Khan's shoulder.

Dean smiled and leaned down, kissing Adam's forehead gently. "I'll come back, I swear. Watch out for Mom and Dad and Sammy, okay?"

"I will." Adam clenched his hands against his chest as his oldest brother galloped off into the increasingly violent storm, the rain washing away his tears. He feared that he would never see Dean again.

* * *

Sam tossed and turned in his bed, his sleep disturbed by the ferocious storm and some silent, gnawing fear deep in his gut. He jerked awake as another bolt of lightning split the skies, hazel eyes glancing toward the table beside his bed and the conscription notice that had been resting there, taunting him, when he fell asleep. Except that it was gone.

The alpha pushed himself up, running one hand through his unruly, shoulder-length hair as the other closed around the golden pin sitting where his scroll had been just a few hours earlier. He stared at the intricate hair piece for a long moment, begging his brain to wake up and process what he was seeing. When it finally hit him, the alpha sagged against the table. "No."

Desperate to be proven wrong, Sam dashed out of his room, clad only in his loose sleeping pants, bare feet pounding on the polished wooden floors of the hallway as he ran toward Dean's room. As a presented omega, Sam's brother lived in a secluded wing of the house, interminably far away tonight. As the alpha had feared, Dean's room was empty and dark, wayward strands of roughly-sliced dark blonde hair on the floor near his makeup table.

Sam spun around and headed back into the main wing of the house, the pin in his hand digging into his palm as he stumbled to a stop outside his parents' room. "Mom! Dad! Dean's gone!" He pounded on the wooden door frame, his voice breaking on his brother's name as his parents slid the door aside and spilled into the hallway.

"What? Son, what are you talking about?"

"He's gone," Sam repeated, tears choking him as Adam appeared at his side, clearly having been woken by his brother's bellowing. "Dean's gone and so is my conscription notice." He held out his hand, the golden pin shining in the dim lantern light. "He left this."

"What? It can't be!" John grabbed the pin, recognizing it as one that Dean had been wearing that morning during his ill-fated meeting with the Matchmaker. Letting out an anguished growl, the alpha rushed toward the back door, slinging it open and sprinting toward the barn. Mary, Sam, and Adam reached him at Khan's stall, the war horse and his tack gone, as well as his two largest saddle bags. "Dean, no . . ."

"John, you have to go after him," Mary urged, grabbing her mate's arm. "He could be killed!"

"If I reveal him, he will be," John whispered, hands gripping the door of Khan's stall.

"He wanted to protect Sam," Adam whispered, half-hidden behind his older brother as he tried to keep from meeting his father's eyes. "He said that Sam wouldn't survive in the army, and he would rather die than lose him." He wrung his hands as all eyes turned toward him, dropping his head as he repeated Dean's words. "He said that he wouldn't survive if Sam and I die in this war, and he'd rather sacrifice himself fighting the Huns than live the rest of his life as the omega no alpha would have."

Sam dropped his eyes to the floor, clenching both hands into fists. "So Dean would sacrifice himself for the alpha no omega would have? He deserves better than that."

John stepped forward and wrapped one arm around each of his sons, sighing as Sam dropped his head on his shoulder. "We'll get him back, Sam. Somehow."

Mary clenched her hands to her chest and stepped forward so she could lean her head on her mate's back. "Ancestors, hear our prayer," she whispered, "watch over Dean."

In the family shrine behind the house, the smoke from Dean's incense still threading through the air, a whisper answered the beta female. The smoke thickened and turned pale blue, slowly forming the image of a large man with glowing eyes, the bottom of the smoke attached to a name stone so old that the carvings were unintelligible, though the first symbol in _Winchester_ was still visible _._ He glanced at the golden incense burner, a wide disk with a sinuous dragon holding onto the edge, a long, golden chain attaching the dragon itself to the ceiling of the shrine. The ancestor reached out and ran his fingers along the dragon's back, a whispered word filling the small space. _"Awaken."_

The golden statue began to shake, smoke surrounding it as the creature shook off its torpor, gold metal fading to red and orange scales, two tiny blue horns visible atop his head as the dark smoke faded away. The small dragon, no bigger than a pet reptile though covered in fur-like scales with two long, mustache-like golden whiskers hanging from his upper lips, rose to his back feet, front legs stretched out in front of him as his pointed ears flicked toward the Great Ancestor. "I live!" His voice, though rough from disuse, still resembled the playful, animated tones he had used when he was a human over a thousand years ago, when a young beta teen named Kevin Tran pledged his service to the Winchester family in order to save his mother and regain his family's honor. His service had been . . . somewhat rocky since then.

Kevin, who still chose to use his human name, turned to the smoky apparition, rubbing his claws together in gleeful anticipation as his long, sinuous tail twitched. "So, tell me, what mortal needs my protection, Great Ancestor? You say the word, and I'm there."

"Kevin . . ." The Ancestor's tone was soft, with a dark warning underlying the dragon's name.

A dragon who clearly did not notice when someone was trying to interrupt him. "And lemme say something: anyone who's foolish enough to threaten our family, vengeance will be mine!"

"Kevin!" The diminutive dragon looked up at that, his ears twirling forward again. The Great Ancestor, who little cared that his name had been lost to time, waved one hand toward the high shelves overlooking the small shrine, a stone animal statue sitting atop all but one. "These are the family guardians. They . . ."

Kevin's ears flattened against his head as he gave the answer he knew was expected. "Protect the family."

"And you, O Demoted One," the Ancestor continued, hand waving toward the perch that Kevin himself had occupied for over eight hundred years.

"I ring the gong."

"That's right. Now, wake up the Ancestors."

Kevin, his face twisted into a mask of determination, reached for the incense holder he used as a gong, a mallet appearing in his other hand. "One family reunion coming right up." Walking closer to the name stones, he began to bang on the gong, calling out encouragement for the spirits to wake. "Okay, people, let's look alive! Let's go, come on, get up! Let's move it; rise and shine!" He dropped his mallet as the other name stones in the room began to glow, each one releasing a translucent, glowing mist that coalesced into a man or woman who had been part of the Winchester family.

Mary's Campbell ancestors were there as well, her family so noble and so well-known that the town nobles were honor-bound to ensure that her ancestors were cared for. Her only alpha sibling, her older brother, had died during the last war, leaving no one to carry on her family name when her father died a few years later. Her mother, Deanna, had begged John to take care of the Campbell ancestors only a few months before joining them herself, too broken after her mate died to continue on her own. John had agreed, combining their shrines after Sam was born and named his official heir. Now Samuel and Deanna Campbell floated above their name stones alongside Mary's brother and a few of Samuel's brother's pups, all of them having died during the war. They were silent, tense, knowing what Dean had risked by running away.

The Winchesters, however, had never really suffered loss during a war, and clearly they were angered by Dean's open defiance, even more than they had been when he was rejected by four years' worth of alpha and beta suitors. The Great Ancestor waited for one of the younger spirits to speak, needing to hear their reactions to the situation that had caused Mary's desperate plea.

The first spirit to speak was an old woman, pins in her hair holding it in a heavy bun. She had been an omega in life, a woman who bore a three alpha and a dozen omega pups, living long enough to see them all happily mated. "I knew it, I knew it! That Dean was a troublemaker from the start."

Beside her, a slender man in dark, formal robes crossed his arms over his chest. He was a direct ancestor of John's from his alpha line, whereas the woman was the great-great-grandmother of John's omega mother. "Don't look at me, he gets it from your side of the family!" Kevin, sitting silently on his gong, nodded his head in agreement. Carver Winchester, who had been the Lord of a town twenty miles to the south, had only fathered alpha pups. There were very few omegas in his line at all, so he certainly had little idea how to deal with them.

One of the first woman's nieces, a beta who had never mated and lived happily as a spinster all of her years, spoke next. She had been a small, gentle woman in life and continued to advocate for peace and harmony in death. "He's only trying to save his brother."

The next speaker was a slender, dark-haired man who had never once in his life disobeyed a rule. Henry Winchester had served as Lord of his father Carver's town before mating Millie and moving to this smaller town where he could raise his single pup in peace. He had never fought in a war, though he knew as much as any alpha who had, and he always wanted better for his pup than war and devastation. The Huns, however, had ruined that, and John had come back from the war somewhat harsher, somewhat bolder than he had been as a younger man. Henry had always considered John's prowess as a warrior his greatest failing. Only Kevin knew that Sam often came to speak to his grandfather's stone, asking for advice on how to convince John that his love lay in books and scholarly pursuits, not in bloodshed and war.

"If Dean is discovered, John Winchester will be forever shamed," Henry pointed out in his cultured, deliberate tone, every word measured and weighed for effect before he offered it. "Dishonor will come to the family. Traditional values will disintegrate." Wasn't it odd, Kevin mused, to hear Henry upholding the values that turned his only son into a warrior.

"Not to mention they'll lose the farm," an ancient, spindly man answered, still holding a tall pitchfork in one hand, the other holding his mate close. Lee had never really been altogether _there_ , and he still didn't realize that the Winchesters had left the land that he cared for decades ago, though the new farm was bigger and much more impressive than the hardscrabble plots he had raked and weeded his entire life.

The first woman, one so disagreeable that Kevin had never bothered to learn her name, leaned forward again, haughty pride in her squinted eyes. "My children never caused such trouble; they all became acupuncturists." Her alpha children had, in any case.

Carver, who had little regard for acupuncturists in general and that disagreeable woman in particular, floated forward again and waved his arms in her face, his voice dripping with his own special brand of sarcasm. "Well we can't _all_ be acupuncturists!"

"No," one of the oldest women ancestors snapped back as she floated forward angrily; "your great-grandson had to be a _cross-dresser_!"

The arguments devolved from there, Kevin and the Great Ancestor both losing track of the conversation. Kevin, who had become accustomed to the pointless commotion, thumbed through a small newspaper, something he had learned to conjure to pass the time. Kevin's utter disregard for the turmoil around him almost made the Great Ancestor speak up, but Samuel Campbell finally rose above the throng, his disciplined voice breaking through the noise.

"Let a guardian bring Dean back."

Well, at least someone finally had a useful suggestion instead of accusations. Carver leapt at the chance to agree, grabbing Kevin around his slender body and shoving him toward one of the vicious-looking stone guardians, pointing toward the gong that the dragon had managed to grab on the way up. "Yes, awaken the most cunning."

Henry snatched Kevin out of his father's hands, holding him close to a different statue, a hare with attentive-looking ears. "No, the swiftest!"

Deanna Campbell plucked the small dragon free and held him up toward the monkey guardian, the statue sitting with one arm crossed over his knee. By now, Kevin was just holding tightly to the string of his gong and the tiny mallet, having no intention of using it until the ancestors could agree on something. "No, send the wisest!"

"Silence," the Great Ancestor thundered, startling Deanna into dropping Kevin to the ground. He thanked whoever had decided to make dragons tough, because a fall from that height might have seriously injured him back when he was still human. "We will send the most powerful of all." Kevin's ears perked up at that; this was his chance!

Dropping his gong, Kevin slithered up to his old pedestal, laughing as soon as he was in position. "Okay, okay, I get the Jif. I'll go." The ancestors, hovering beneath him with their amorphous lower bodies still attached to their name stones, burst into laughter, even the leader chuckling. "What, you don't think I can do it?! Watch this!" Kevin breathed in and snorted out a tiny flame, the largest he had ever managed. He was a dragon, technically, but he had always relied on his deviousness and wits to overcome any task that was set before him. "Ah-hah! Jump back; I'm pretty hot. Don't make me singe somebody to prove my point."

"You had your chance to protect the Winchester family," the Great Ancestor rumbled.

"Your misguidance led Mark Winchester to disaster," the old woman who had yelled at Carver earlier hissed.

"Yeah," Mark agreed, the young beta soldier tossing his severed head into the air, "thanks a lot."

Kevin glared at the gathered spirits, almost sneering his anger. Mark's misfortune hadn't been his fault; the man had died over two hundred years earlier during a Hun incursion before the Great Wall had been built. How could he have known that the lines would break where the beta had been stationed? The death _had_ been honorable. "And your point is?"

"The point is, we will be sending a real dragon to retrieve Dean," the Great Ancestor answered, gritting his teeth as he struggled not to lose his temper at the gong-ringer.

"What? What? I'm a real dragon!"

"You are not worthy of this spot," the Great Ancestor snapped, grabbing Kevin around his waist and forcibly removing him from the shelf and throwing him out the door of the shrine. "Now, awaken the Great Stone Dragon!" His gong and mallet followed a moment later.

Kevin grumbled as he grabbed the string on top of the gong, dragging it despondently behind him as he headed toward the huge statue overlooking the reflecting pool. The ancestors had been arguing all night, dawn brightening the horizon, and Dean might already be at the camp. The thought spurred the dragon a little, but he was still sulking as he reached the bottom of the hill.

"Just one chance, is that too much to ask? I mean, it's not like it'd kill you." He was talking to himself, and he knew that the Great Ancestor couldn't hear him, but he really, truly wanted to redeem himself for letting Mark die. He could find Dean and save him, he could! But he had been ordered to let the Great Stone Dragon fetch the young omega and protect the family honor.

Kevin reached the silent statue and started to climb it, a feeling of uneasiness in his gut. When he was around the other guardians, there was an energy, a presence stirring just below the stone surface, but this statue was cold, silent. The dragon perched on his larger counterpart's shoulder, holding up his gong and banging it, hard, waiting for the magic to take effect. "Yo, Rocky, wake up! You gotta go fetch Dean!"

He kept banging on his gong, feeling the strange magic in it reaching out for the huge statue but not getting any response. He climbed up to the statue's ear, growling in annoyance at the extra effort as he banged his gong again, louder, and yelled into the stone ear. Nothing happened.

The dragon slumped to the ground, dragging his gong down with him to use it as a seat. What was he going to do? The Great Stone Dragon had been asleep for a long, long time and it looked like his spirit had fled, either abandoning the family for good, or joining a human host for some reason. Either way, the statue was not going to move. He took a moment to thank the gods that the small reflecting pond was out of sight of the shrine at the top of the hill and that none of the ancestors could leave that building.

His ears perked up as the Great Ancestor's voice thundered down the hill, inaudible to human ears but far too loud to the small dragon. "Great Stone Dragon! Have you awakened?"

Panicking, Kevin dropped his gong and ran partway up the hill, catching the spirit's eyes and pointing toward the rising sun. "Uh, yeah, he just woke up! I, uh, told him what was going on and he said he would go forth and fetch Dean!" He hoped that sounded convincing enough.

Clearly, it did, because the Ancestor nodded sagely. "Good. Kevin, make sure you tell him that the fate of the Winchester Family rests in his claws."

"Uh, yeah, of course! I'll, uh, run after him right now and let him know!" Kevin watched as the Great Ancestor faded from the physical realm, returning to his slumber safe in the knowledge that the greatest of the family guardians had gone off to bring their errant omega home.

Except, he hadn't. Kevin slithered back over to the huge dragon statue, crawling up on his lower claws and dropping his head into his hands. "That's just great, now what? I'm doomed, all because an overgrown omega decided to take his drag show on the road! And why, in the name of all that is good and holy, would the Great Stone Dragon's spirit be missing?"

A small purple cricket, from a species frequently considered lucky in China, joined the dragon on his perch, chirping sagely at the larger beast. Thankfully, Kevin spoke cricket.

"What? Go get him? Me? What's the matter with you? After this Great Stone Sabbatical mess, I'd have to bring him home with a medal to get back in the Temple." The tiny cricket tilted his head in confusion, antennae pointed forward as he tried to get a read on this dragon. He had never met one before, but it seemed like a large, powerful creature that could help his new friend Dean return home safely. The omega had been kind to him, releasing him into a beautiful garden after he had lived in a cage his whole life, so he truly wanted to repay that generous gesture.

"That's it! I'll make Dean a war hero and they'll be begging me to come back to work! That's the master plan!" It didn't seem like a terrible plan, as far as the cricket was concerned, and of course he had no idea that Kevin had gotten the last Winchester he helped beheaded. So, ever helpful, he chirped again.

"And what makes you think you're coming?" Kevin, his gong and mallet forgotten, dashed off toward the front of the estate and the road, looking for the spot where the guardians had built their most recent portal system near the front gate. Dean had a huge head-start, but he had most likely ridden slowly to avoid tiring his horse. He couldn't be admitted to the camp until dawn, which was nearly upon them, and Kevin had to get to him before that. He couldn't fly, and his magic was pretty much all fire-based, but the Hare guardian had designed a tunnel system of portals that would allow all of the guardians to travel anywhere in China.

The cricket chirped again, leaping after the dragon as he sensed the buildup of energy nearby. "You're lucky? Do I look like a sucker to you?" The cricket, his antennae crossed behind his head angrily, chirped back. "What do you mean a loser? What if I pop one of your antennae off and throw it across the yard, then who's the loser, you or me?" The cricket's response faded as the pair of them jumped into a portal, vanishing in a flash of brilliant blue-white light.

* * *

Dick Roman had never considered himself an unreasonable man. His tribe, the greatest among the various Hun families, had guarded the border with China faithfully for generations. There had been many emperors in China during that time, and each had built small stone walls to protect their lands from Dick's people, though most of the deterrents had been ineffectual.

The last great skirmish between the Huns, including Dick's Leviathan tribe, and the people of China had ended over twenty years prior, and the current emperor had decided to try to make the peace permanent. Unfortunately for him, Chuck of the Qin Dynasty decided to do that by linking all of the smaller stone walls into one Great Wall of China, which infuriated the Huns to the north. It had taken him two decades to complete his project and the Huns had immediately decided to test the impenetrability of the edifice.

Some of the tribes from the west indicated that Chuck had already started to build the wall taller and thicker in certain places, a project that could take hundreds or even thousands of years to complete, but it was an affront to the power of the independent Hun tribes. They couldn't allow this insult, so Dick had been chosen to lead an army south, to invade China and topple Chuck from his throne.

The tall, deceptively slender Hun looked up from the map his Second was showing him, dark eyes flicking to a commotion at the edge of his camp. The man, Edgar, had been a member of a rival tribe before the Leviathans exterminated them, but he had proven his worth since then.

"Sir! Imperial scouts." Gaines, an older warrior who had been loyal to Dick for decades, dragged a pair of scrawny Chinese men into the clearing, both betas by their scent and neither of them armed well enough to take on even one Hun. What was the Emperor playing at?

Dick rose to his feet, the heavy fur and leather cloak he wore adding bulk to his unassuming frame. A heavy sword in an ancient scabbard hung across his back, the symbol of his tribe and power, one clearly recognized by the older of the two betas.

"Dick Roman!"

"Good work, gentleman," he mocked, the slightest hiss in his voice. "You've found the Hun army." Edgar and Gaines chuckled at that, both alphas certain that the Chinese posed them no threat. Unlike the Chinese, the Huns generally allowed all subgenders in their army, though Dick's closest advisors and the tribal leaders were all alphas.

"The Emperor will stop you," the second scout managed, his young voice breaking on the words. Why was Chuck using _children_ in his army?

"Stop me?" Dick chuckled, reaching for the hunting knife at his side and playing with the leather-wrapped handle. "He invited me. By building his wall, he challenged my strength. Well, I'm here to play his game." He turned his back on the pair, tugging his fur-lined hood back over his head in a clear dismissal, showing the scouts that they weren't even worth his time. "Go! Tell your Emperor to send his strongest armies. I'm ready."

The two betas glanced at each other before scurrying off, the older one glancing back over his shoulder as they vanished into the fog of the swamp. Dick glanced at Edgar, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with one gloved hand. "How many men does it take to deliver a message?"

Valente, a young beta who had proven himself to be one of the finest archers in the Hun army, grinned as he raised his bow and nocked an arrow. "One."


	3. The Great Masquerade

Chapter 3: The Great Masquerade

* * *

Dean groaned and dropped his head into his folded arms, collapsed against his patient horse's side. Khan leaned down and sniffed the omega's hair, nibbling gently before snorting and looking down the small cliff at the huge army camp arrayed beneath them. "Man, what am I doing here? There's no way I'm going to convince an army full of alphas and dominant betas that I'm one of them. It's going to take a miracle to get me in there."

A deep, booming voice filled the area, smoke and flames rising from behind a nearby boulder as Dean jerked his head up, shocked. "Did I hear someone ask for a miracle?!"

Dean yelped and jumped back, staring at the huge shadow cast against the cliff wall behind him, not sure if this was something he could fight or not. "A ghost?!"

The shadow chuckled as it shrunk, whatever was casting it moving closer as the fire slowly faded. "Get ready, Dean Winchester; your serpentine salvation is at hand, for I have been sent by your ancestors to guide you through your masquerade! So heed my words, 'cause if the army finds out you're an omega, the penalty is _death_!"

Dean leaned forward cautiously as the shadow shrunk somewhat, his nose twitching as he tried to scent anything through the smoke. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? _Who am I?_ I am the guardian of lost souls! I am the powerful, the pleasurable, the indestructible Kevin Tran." As he spoke his name, the slender dragon emerged from behind the rock, smoke still leaking from between his teeth as a purple cricket followed in his wake. The red dragon with a gold belly was hardly awe-inspiring, and he definitely did not look powerful, but it still took Dean a long moment to regain his voice.

The omega reached out and picked up the snake-shaped creature, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out what was going on. "My ancestors sent a little lizard to help me?" Honestly, he had no idea why his ancestors would help him at all, but he was willing to admit that he could use any assistance available. Even from a tiny red lizard.

"Hey, dragon, _dragon_ , not lizard," Kevin protested, twisting in Dean's grip to climb his arm and look him in the eye. "I don't do that tongue thing."

"You're . . . um . . ."

"Intimidating? Awe-inspiring?"

Khan snorted, tossing his head as he tried to decide if he should bite at the weird lizard thing on his rider's arm. He was a war horse, an incredibly well-trained one, and he was normally very good at identifying threats. "Tiny," Dean replied flatly.

"Of course! I'm travel-sized for your convenience. If I was my real size, your cow here would die of fright." Khan, clearly deciding that this tiny dragon was a threat, snapped his teeth at him, trying to chase him off of Dean's arm. Kevin raised one paw and glared at the horse, snorting a puff of smoke at the huge beast. "Down, Bessie." He turned back to Dean, grinning at the tall omega. "My powers are beyond your mortal imagination. For instance, my eyes can see straight through your armor."

Dean growled and snapped his teeth at Kevin, smacking the tiny dragon off his arm and into the dirt at his feet. The tiny purple cricket that had followed the dragon to the army camp chirped something snarky, Khan pawing at the ground nearby.

"Alright, that's it!" Kevin jumped to his feet, ears pinned back as he snorted dark smoke at the omega he had chosen to help. Dean found himself wondering if the creature could actually breath fire or if he could only manage smoke. "Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family!" Dean started at the word, at his greatest fear, as Kevin glanced at the cricket and waved his hand. "Make a note of this. Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dis—"

Dean clamped his hand over Kevin's mouth, his scent repentant under the layers of blockers and artificial scents he had put on the night before. "Stop; I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I'm just nervous." He waved at the rows of tents arrayed below them, reaching up to pat the pouch in his armor that held the potions and herbs that made him smell like an alpha and would prevent his body from doing anything overtly omega, like producing slick or going into heat. "I've never done this before," he whispered, gray-green eyes flashing in the morning light. The eye drops had worked, preventing any gold from showing through when he got emotional, though he wasn't sure he liked the faded shade of green they had turned.

Kevin smiled gently and walked up to Dean's side, reaching up with one tiny paw to pat the human's arm. "Then you're going to have to trust me," the dragon soothed, the smoke gone from his breath. "And don't slap me anymore. You clear on that?" Dean nodded, eager to have some sort of support and friendly companionship during his masquerade. "Okey-dokey, let's get this show on the road. Cri-Kee, get the bags. Let's move it, heifer."

Khan tossed his head, clearly irritated at the dragon's tone, but Dean soothed the war horse before taking his reins and leading him down the mountain. What choice did he have but to follow the creature and try to bluff his way into the camp?

* * *

Kevin tucked himself into the back of Dean's armor, Cri-Kee safe beside him. "Okay, tell me what you know about this camp and I'll help you out."

"Well, this is the Crystal Lake Camp, and all noble conscripts from the neighboring villages were sent here. We're close enough to the Imperial City that it's mostly their nobles, maybe even the Emperor's younger children who have volunteered to serve. There aren't any other nobles in my town ranked highly enough to be sent here, so at least I don't have to worry about being recognized."

"Well, you do have to worry about your walk." Kevin poked his tiny claws into the back of Dean's neck, Cri-Kee chirping something encouraging. "Alphas don't walk all hunched over and meek or whatever you're doing right now. They don't bow to anyone, they don't submit to anyone, and they don't invite a challenge to their authority. Throw your shoulders back, puff out your chest, and walk with your legs further apart. They look a bit bowed, so that should be easy for you." Kevin leaned forward and glanced down, nodding in approval as Dean tried to follow his suggestions. "Good. And don't look down, ever. Like, don't make eye contact with any alphas here who actually outrank you, but don't shy away from their scrutiny, either."

"This is ridiculous," Dean growled, tightening his grip around Khan's lead. "How is anyone expected to walk like this all the time?"

"Practice." Kevin tapped the side of Dean's neck, pointing toward a trio of trainees lounging near the food tent, speaking with the soldier watching the pot of rice. "Take your heifer over there and chat those three up. Time to see if your disguise will hold."

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, heading toward the small group. As soon as he was within scent range, the big, burly, brunet alpha standing in the back looked up, his bright blue eyes fixating on the newcomer as he tapped the other two soldiers on their shoulders. The other male, a lean alpha with similar bright blue eyes and short, neatly trimmed blonde hair, also looked up, the faint hint of curiosity reaching the approaching omega. The third member of their group, a petite, redheaded female beta, bounced to her feet and approached the newcomer, her emerald eyes taking him in for a moment before she grinned.

"Hey, you must be new! I'm Charlie, from the Imperial City." Her scent, now that Dean could smell it, was soothing, a combination of magnolia and spruce.

The lean male stepped forward next, his rosemary and mint scent unusual for an alpha. He sized Dean up, bowing his head slightly in a gesture between equals. "I'm Balthazar, and I also come from the Imperial City."

"He comes from the Imperial Court," the third member of their group snorted, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the exchange curiously. The beta woman who had been standing beside the food tent stalked closer to the newcomer, brushing her long red braid behind her back as she sniffed the air. "I'm Benny, currently living in the Imperial City, and Anna here is Balthazar's sister, also from the Imperial Court."

Dean's eyes widened as he recognized the names. "Balthazar and Anna? I didn't realize any of the Emperor's children had been conscripted."

Balthazar shrugged. "We weren't. We volunteered, Anna quite a bit before me. Most of my siblings have served or are serving in the army, so it just made sense for the rest of us to sign up with this new Hun threat. Besides, my brother is in charge of this training camp, and I'd rather serve under him than anyone else."

Dean smiled, bowing as much as he could with a dragon tucked into the back of his armor. He was grateful that he had thought of an alias and backstory already, having practiced the name on the ride over so that he could say it convincingly. He wasn't sure if anyone from the Imperial City would recognize his real name, but his father had sent out announcements to a hundred noble and high ranked families when he presented, so it was possible. "I'm Steve. It's, uh, nice to meet all of you."

Anna smiled and held out her hand to pat Khan on his neck. "You have a beautiful horse, though he looks a bit too young to have served in the last war."

"No, he didn't, but Dad did ride him to the western border for that dispute about ten years ago."

"Well, go unpack your supplies in one of the empty tents in the back and bring your wonderful steed back to me. I'll stable him with the rest of the herd until we get to mounted combat."

Dean nodded gratefully, glad that someone had given him directions. "I'll do that, thanks." He felt Kevin peek out of the back of his armor again, probably checking out the betas and alphas standing in front of him, and clearly Khan took it as a challenge. The horse nickered something that sounded uncomplimentary, lunging at the dragon and snapping his teeth on thin air as Dean stumbled forward and lost his grip on the reins. His horse reared and swung his head, hitting the edge of the table just outside the food tent, kicking back in shock when he felt something touch him. Dean grabbed for his horse, but it was too late. He, along with the four soldiers he had barely met, watched helplessly as the table fell over, spilling the huge pot of rice on the ground as hundreds of plates clattered into the dirt at their feet.

* * *

Zachariah had been a general in the Emperor's army for almost a full decade, and Castiel's commander for the younger alpha's entire career. He had fought in the last war and received many accolades, but as the son of a concubine, the balding, gray-haired alpha had refused to take a mate or have a family. He wanted to serve his father, as did his two colonels and the major who stood patiently behind his chair.

Zachariah carefully nudged one of the figures on the map over the mountains and dangerously close to the tiny town that guarded the Tung Shao Pass. It was one of the few ways to reach the Imperial City, and Castiel had known that the Huns would take the obvious route. "The Huns have struck here, here, and here," Zachariah explained, jabbing at the map with one beefy finger. "I will take my troops to the Tung Shao Pass and stop Dick Roman before he destroys this village." His touch was soft as he passed over that dot on the map, the splotch of ink that marked where his commoner mother had been born.

"Excellent strategy, sir!" Metatron, the Emperor's scribe currently assigned to oversee new troop training and deployment, was a sycophant, and Zachariah was powerful in the Imperial City. The old beta knew who to suck up to. "I do love surprises."

Castiel, who was more than a decade younger than his half-brother and easily two decades younger than the irritating scribe, resisted the urge to roll his blue eyes. He wasn't in line for the throne, not with two older alpha brothers, so most of his father's advisors didn't bother to suck up to him. They would, however, when he finally mated and settled down in the City to live a life of politics. He knew his fate, but he would resist that retirement for as long as he could. "It's a sound plan, brother, but are you sure that Dick will go for this obvious path? It's such a small pass and so easy to defend that he might head further south and circle around this way." Castiel placed one finger on the map and drew a half-circle, ending on the Imperial City.

"That's unlikely, Castiel," Uriel oozed, his face carrying a scowl so old that his brothers often wondered if the dark-skinned man could even smile. He was unpleasant at the best of times, and even his mother had not been able to handle him. He would never achieve a rank higher than Colonel with his surly attitude and complete disregard for breeding and station, but his full brother Raphael had a chance at General someday. Those two were likely to take mates, low-born nobles or wealthy commoners, as befitted the sons of concubines, so this war was their chance to gain enough honor to ask for the finest partners. Castiel felt sorry for whoever the Matchmaker paired with them. "The Huns are not known for their cunning; they will take the easy path."

"I agree with Castiel," Hester interjected, the alpha Major leaning forward and tapping the map. She was fair and blonde, only a year older than Castiel and Zachariah's only full sibling. She wasn't ashamed of her parentage in any way, perfectly happy to accept whatever young beta or omega the Matchmaker offered her after the war was over. "We should consider the scant possibility that Dick will avoid the village, knowing that we plan to set a trap there, and head south. We don't have more than a skeleton force guarding the lower paths."

"The forces we have there will be enough to warn us if he changes direction, and by the time he gets there we will have reinforcements."

"What reinforcements, General?" Metatron might not have actually been curious, but he knew when Zachariah wanted to be prodded to keep talking, and his timing was impeccable.

"Castiel will stay here and train the new recruits," Zachariah decided, leaning back and grinning at his younger brother. "When Metatron believes you are ready, you will join us . . . Captain."

Castiel's eyes widened as he straightened in his chair. "Captain?" He had served under his half-brother for only four years, and he hadn't expected to be promoted so quickly.

"Oh! This is an enormous responsibility, General," Metatron sputtered, waving his writing brush around in the air. "Perhaps a soldier with more experience?"

Castiel caught himself on the edge of a growl, the raven-haired alpha knowing better than to antagonize the members of his father's court but excessively eager to do so. Zachariah just chuckled and leaned forward, bobbing his head in what he probably thought was reassurance. "Number one in his class, extensive knowledge of training techniques . . . an impressive military lineage . . . I believe Castiel will do an excellent job."

For probably the first time in his life, Castiel was grateful that Zachariah liked his half-siblings and promoted them whenever he felt they had earned it. Generally, that was well before any of the other highly ranked officers in the army would have done it, but the old alpha was often right. Uriel was an ass, but a good warrior, and Raphael made up for any political grace his younger brother lacked. Hester was snappy but loyal, and Zachariah had led them well for the better part of a decade. "I won't let you down, brother," the young alpha replied, bowing his head and projecting gratitude into his honey-tinted hickory scent. He had often been mocked for being an alpha who smelled just a little too sweet, but anyone who underestimated him learned their lesson quickly. He had fought his way into the army and he would continue to fight against anyone who judged another for their scent before getting to know them. It had made him an incredible trainer, so giving him a camp full of new recruits was the perfect solution to the army's lack of new blood.

"Very good, then. We'll toast China's victory at the Imperial City. I'll expect a full report in three weeks." He pushed himself up from the table, checking his sword as he turned toward the door, his three shadows on his heels.

Metatron turned to glare at Castiel before following the general outside, brush and clipboard in hand and he lowered his voice. "And believe me, I won't leave anything out."

 _Don't strangle the scribe. Don't strangle the scribe_. Castiel repeated the mantra in his head as he stood taller and threw his shoulders back, knowing that he was imposing at six feet tall, broad chested with more than his normal share of strength and endurance. Alphas, in general, shied away from him, not willing to risk his ire in a dominance fight, even before they found out he was the Emperor's third heir. He stepped into the sunlight and stopped still in his tracks, azure eyes widening in shock at the scene that greeted him.

* * *

Dean finally got control of Khan, pulling the horse away from the food tent as dozens of new recruits gathered close enough to see the commotion. One of them got too close to the war horse's hooves and caught the edge of a kick before Dean moved away. The alpha, a dark-haired man who gave off some reasonably intense sleazy vibes, grunted, his eyes flashing red as he attacked the nearest target, a skinny male beta. The alphas nearby went into a frenzy as soon as the first punch was thrown, their instincts demanding that they join in. Horrified, Dean pulled Khan away from the commotion, almost tripping over Anna in his haste.

The petite beta, not in the least concerned about the major brawl breaking out in the center of the camp, held out one hand patiently and glanced up at Khan. "Let me take your horse to the field where the rest of them are stabled. He's caused enough trouble for today."

Dean nodded gratefully and passed the reins over, cooing softly at the black stallion. "I'm sorry about all of this; he's not usually so skittish."

Anna shrugged, running a hand down Khan's sweat-damp neck. At least his eyes weren't rolling anymore, and he seemed less likely to rear and break away. "He'll get used to all of this in time. I'm surprised you didn't jump into that brawl over there."

Dean rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at the pack of alphas eagerly trying to tear each others' throats out. He had seen fights like that back home, usually between five or so alphas, and they always ended before blood was spilled or any serious damage was done. It was far too easy to get alphas riled up, and as soon as the fight started no one wanted to be the first to back down. A couple of dominant betas had joined in, but most of them were trying to pull as many combatants out of the fray as they could. "I've never gone for that sort of violence. Fighting with cause is one thing, but there's no reason to give into our animalistic urges."

Anna stared at him for a long moment, head tilted curiously to the side as she tried to figure him out. "Well, Steve, if you aren't interested in joining, you might as well help break it up. You're bigger than most of the other alphas here; I'm sure you can be of use." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, whispering calming words to the stallion by her side.

Dean sighed as he turned back to the fray, trying to decide how he could best help break up the combatants. Benny and Balthazar had only joined long enough to deck a couple of the newbies they didn't like, and they had now managed to get most of the alphas apart. Dean only saw two still fighting; the dark-haired sleaze ball who had started it and another tall man with a neatly-trimmed graying beard.

They froze mid-swing as the large tent at the top of the small hill overlooking the camp swung open, an older, balding alpha emerging, two dark-skinned male alphas just behind him and a fair female alpha in their wake. They were all dressed in the livery of the Imperial Army, cloaks flowing from their shoulders and decorations on their chest from battles and wars won years ago. The older man looked over the field disapprovingly, frowning as an old male beta joined the group, a clipboard in one hand.

Dean started as he recognized Metatron, the Emperor's scribe, his beady eyes and heavy jowls set in anger. "Most impressive," he oozed over his shoulder as he flashed his teeth at the final man to emerge into the daylight.

The young omega felt his breath catch in his throat as he caught sight of the most gorgeous alpha he had ever met. The man was tall and imposing, his broad shoulders thrown back and his head tilted up, just enough that he could glare down his aristocratic nose at the gathered soldiers. His eyes were the brightest, most intensely unbelievably blue Dean had ever seen, sparkling like a thunderstorm as a low growl signaled his displeasure. His raven hair was short, as was the style for alphas, but it was wild and stuck out in all directions, almost begging for someone to reach out and smooth it back into place. Dean was suddenly immensely grateful that his scent blockers and herbs dulled his own sense of smell, otherwise his instinctive biological reaction to being in the presence of a man who was clearly Alpha would have outed him in an instant. Even so, it took every ounce of self-control the omega possessed to keep from falling at this man's feet and submitting, begging to be claimed.

The thoughts passed through Dean's mind in an instant, the sharp pinprick of claws in his neck reminding him that an alpha wouldn't feel the urge to submit to this powerful rival, though none of the ones in the field would meet his eyes. Dean just hoped his eye drops worked as described and were preventing his eyes from turning gold as the raven-haired alpha finally looked his way.

* * *

Castiel let his gaze rake across every new recruit, noting which ones glanced away uneasily and which ones managed to keep eye contact for a little longer. His younger brother Balthazar, a shallow cut over one eye, met his eyes and smirked before glancing down in acknowledgement of his dominance, though none of his beta half-siblings had apparently been involved. The alpha let his eyes stop on the newest member of the army, a tall, broad alpha with dark blonde hair and faded gray-green eyes. He looked somewhat familiar, but Castiel couldn't place the memory, no matter how long this alpha held his gaze.

Zachariah snorted at the damage the brawling alphas had caused, noting the spilled rice, the broken plates, and the food table that had seen better days. He offered his younger brother a shallow bow before striding to his horse and swinging onto its back, his three officers following his lead. "Good luck, Captain!" He kicked his horse and galloped off toward his waiting army, his escort close on his heels.

"Good luck, brother," Castiel called back, waiting until the horses had vanished before turning back to his soldiers and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Metatron snickered at his side, taking out his displeasure at having to stay in this camp on the newly-minted captain. "Day one."

Castiel resisted the urge to growl at the old beta, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest as he strode forward. "Soldiers!"

The alphas and betas stepped back from the epicenter of their brawl, straightening their uniforms and armor as some of them snapped to attention. Benny, Balthazar's good friend and a fine warrior who had previously served in the Emperor's court as his favorite chef, nodded toward the newest recruit hovering uncertainly at the edge of the group. "He started it."

Dean's eyes widened as he swallowed nervously, forcing himself to stand tall as the Captain approached him. Kevin had ducked down into his arm, his breath warm on the omega's neck as they both prayed that he wasn't about to get kicked out of the army for accidentally starting a fight. Castiel's eyes, now an icy gray-blue with the slightest tinge of red around the outside, locked on the omega, his chin tilted just enough that he could look down his nose at the man. That wasn't fair, really, Dean mused, because he was sure that he had a couple of inches on the guy. "I don't need anyone causing trouble in my camp," the captain growled.

"Sorry," Dean answered instinctively, his back bowing slightly as he started to offer his neck to the alpha. Kevin's admonishment that alphas did not submit to anyone flashed through his mind, and he made a conscious effort to stand taller and look up into Castiel's eyes. "I mean, sorry that got out of hand. We were just, uh, messing around. You know, alpha stuff."

The gathered soldiers snickered at that, even though a few of the more injured ones nodded in agreement. Certainly they hadn't started the day with the intention of getting into a brawl, so some of what had happened could be explained away by alpha tempers. None of them were quite sure what had triggered them, however, and were perfectly willing to let Dean be their scapegoat and keep the captain's fury from landing on them.

Castiel shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's your name?"

"Steve," Dean answered quickly, hoping that he sounded confident enough.

"Let me see your conscription notice." Dean fumbled in the front of his armor for the rolled scroll, passing it over quickly and watching as Castiel skimmed through it and Metatron leaned close enough to read it, too. He was suddenly very glad that the old scribe was an ass and had little regard for anyone other than himself. Clearly, the beta didn't recognize him, and it was unlikely that he remembered the tall, blonde omega who had spoken back to him the day before. Such things were probably beneath Metatron's notice.

"Winchester," Castiel read, eyes narrowing. "John Winchester? _The_ John Winchester?"

Metatron looked up sharply. "You're John Winchester's alpha son?" His pale eyes glazed over for a moment as he clearly tried to remember if he had ever met the famous general's offspring, but it was clear that Sam hadn't made much of an impression on him, either. "I thought you were taller," the scribe managed at last.

Dean scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping that he could posture his way through whatever vague recollections the scribe's failing memory had offered him. "I'm taller than you, aren't I?"

Castiel placed a warning hand on Metatron's arm, silencing any retort the beta might have offered. "What are you, fifteen? Sixteen, maybe? Are you even old enough to serve?"

Hearing his own arguments from supper the night before repeated back to him almost broke Dean out of his alpha persona, but he found himself offering Sam's answer to the captain. He was immensely grateful that he had always looked young for his age, and judicious application of his own omega makeup helped to enforce that image of youth. "An alpha may fight as soon as he has presented. I'm old enough."

Metatron opened his mouth to offer some new, vicious barb, but Castiel's sharp glare silenced him once more. "Ok, soldiers, thanks to your new 'friend' Steve, you'll spend today picking up every single grain of rice and putting this camp back in order." A round of groans followed his words, but the alpha didn't bother to acknowledge them. "Tomorrow, the real work begins."

Kevin peeked his head out of the back of Dean's armor as Castiel stalked away, dozens of red-rimmed alpha eyes turning toward him. The omega cowered back slightly, hoping that none of his new "friends" would decide to attack. "You know," the dragon murmured in his ear, "we have to work on your people skills."

* * *

Castiel strode into his tent, heading to the back and pulling aside the heavy curtain that separated the sleeping and meeting areas. In the middle of the smaller of the two beds, surrounded by a mountain of pillows that she had insisted on bringing from the palace, a slender young alpha stirred. Her long, blonde hair was tied back in an intricate braid that Castiel had learned to do when she was a much younger pup, and her bright blue eyes watched her father carefully as he sat down beside her bed. "It's after dawn."

Castiel shrugged at her observation. "I let you sleep in. We had a long ride last night."

The alpha, barely a month out of her first rut, sat up in bed, her eyes flashing red for a moment. She wasn't very good at controlling her instinctive reactions yet, but she would learn to as she grew. "I wanted to train with the recruits today. You said you'd wake me."

"Sorry, Claire; they aren't going to be training today. A clumsy pup not much older than you managed to decimate the food tent, so they all have cleaning duty. You can join them for that, if you want." His voice was light and teasing, the pup glaring at his tone.

"No, I don't, but you did promise that you would treat me like one of your recruits. You said I could train with them and fight."

"Yes, but their training doesn't start until tomorrow, so you get to be my pup for one more day." Castiel reached out to cup the girl's cheek in his hand, smiling softly as she surrendered to the gentle caress. "I didn't want you to come at all, so you can give me this one day."

"Ok, Dad," Claire murmured, "but you can't keep me from fighting. I'm presented and I have the right. Granddad is okay with it."

Castiel snorted and turned away, heading back into the sitting area as his pup padded after him. She was dressed in a soft fighting shirt and loose pants, not bothering with any symbols of rank or station. As the daughter of a concubine, she often felt that she didn't deserve any of that, no matter that Castiel had assured her that he would be able to grant her a noble title as soon as he had a legal mate. "Your granddad has four legal grandchildren between you and Luci's pups, not even counting Muriel's son and new daughter. I only have you, and I don't want you to fight."

Claire moved to stand in front of her father, one small hand on his chest as she looked up into his eyes. "I want to be here, with you, Dad. I want to be a warrior, prove that I'm _your_ pup. I don't want anyone to think that I'm not worthy enough to be part of the Imperial Family."

"You are, Claire, I promise you. No one thinks that you are greedy or manipulative like your birth mother. You don't have to prove anything to them."

Claire shook her head as she thought back to the stories her father had told her about April, the concubine who had tricked Castiel into impregnating her when he was in his first rut. "I have to prove it to me," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Alright then," the newly-minted captain whispered, resting his chin on top of his daughter's head. "Training starts tomorrow, and I'll make sure you're there. But I can't treat you any different than the other soldiers, okay?"

Claire nodded eagerly, grinning as she looked over her shoulder at the tent flap that led to the rest of the camp. "I'll bet I'm the youngest recruit out there!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you are." Castiel's mind jumped back to that tall alpha with gray-green eyes and a spattering of freckles across his nose. Something still seemed off about the kid, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. "There's a general's son out there who might be pretty close, though. He barely looks sixteen. He's also quite the troublemaker."

Claire grinned excitedly as her eyes flashed red. "Good, I could use a friend."

"Heaven help us."


	4. The Army's Disappointment

Chapter 4: The Army's Disappointment

* * *

Balthazar leaned back against the pillar of the reconstructed food tent, watching Benny tear through his breakfast with gusto. "It's just fish porridge."

Benny shrugged as he downed the last of it, placing his bowl on the ground nearby. "Food is food, brother. And I am fond of fish in almost any form. I'm sorry the army diet doesn't agree with your royal palate."

"Food should be enjoyable, not barely palatable," Balthazar argued, having only taken a small ration of porridge that morning before scoring some fruit. He looked around for a moment, nodding at the few recruits he was related to before nudging Benny with his foot. "Hey, our new friend has finally arrived for breakfast."

Benny looked up as Steve, the disappointing alpha son of General John Winchester, slunk into camp, his muddy green eyes dashing furtively around as he tried to avoid everyone he had pissed off the day before. Well, that was really pretty much _everyone_. Steve didn't head to the food tent, instead walking toward the area in front of Captain Castiel's tent where the soldiers were meant to gather that morning. He was dressed in the traditional fighting _gi_ that they had been told to wear during practice, and it fit him perfectly, but there was something _unkempt_ in the way he moved, the flow of his gait, even the tilt of his head. It almost seemed that Steve was not comfortable in his own skin, his own identity. If Benny wasn't still so angry at the lean boy for causing them so much trouble the day before, he would have been more concerned about that particular observation.

Bartholomew, the tall alpha who had thrown the first punch the day before, sauntered over to Steve, throwing his shoulders back in a clear challenge. Steve looked away, not a touch of red in his eyes or anger in his scent, his entire stance asking not to fight. He wasn't submitting, exactly, but it was unusual for an alpha to avoid conflict in that manner. Benny leaned forward, intrigued by this young alpha who had single-handedly destroyed half of the camp the day before, but it was clear that Bartholomew was irritated that his advance was being ignored. He growled and grabbed Steve's short brown hair, eyes flashing alpha red as he demanded a fight.

Steve shot to his feet and knocked Bartholomew's arm away, snapping his teeth in a clear warning to back away. "Leave it, man. I'm not in the mood today."

A few of the other alphas who had been involved in the brawl moved forward, their eyes flashing as they angled for a piece of the action. Anna watched curiously, not motivated to stop the coming violence but curious why the newest soldier was still standing so calmly, only a faint hint of anger burning along his cinnamon scent and no red in his eyes. What kind of alpha didn't rage out when faced with a fight?

Metatron cleared his throat as he approached the group, tapping his brush on his clipboard as he attempted to break up the coming fight. "Order people, order!"

Alphas rarely paid any attention to posturing betas, especially old ones, and this was clearly not going to be an exception to the rule. The gathering alphas growled and snapped their teeth, heading closer to Steve until a sharp voice cut through their fury.

"Soldiers!"

The alphas and betas snapped to attention, rushing into formation as Castiel strode onto the field, dressed in a training _gi_ with a scowl on his face. He hadn't used his alpha voice, but it was damn close, and even his siblings found themselves unable to resist the urge to obey.

* * *

Dean moved into line with the other soldiers, struggling not to stare at the captain as he strode onto the training field just below the new food tent. Castiel looked _amazing_ in that soft blue-gray getup, the clothes only enhancing his muscles and alpha physique. Dean felt a twinge of arousal at the sight, pushing his instincts aside as he stood as tall as the other soldiers and tried not to make eye contact with Castiel. Beside him, a tiny waif of an alpha echoed his stance, her pale blue eyes following the captain as he strode toward them and slipped out of his shirt, tossing it to the side and nearly giving Dean a heart attack. How was he going to survive army training with such an incredibly gorgeous alpha leading them?

"You will assemble swiftly and silently every morning." Dean truly hoped the other soldiers would obey that edict, as he had no intention of getting into a fight every day with one or more of them. Castiel grabbed a long bow and an arrow from one of the quivers on the training field before continuing. "Anyone who acts otherwise will answer to me."

"Oooh, tough guy." Benny was the last alpha Dean would have expected to talk back to the captain, especially since he was friendly with one of the prince's half-brothers, but Castiel smirked as if he had expected the mild challenge.

"Benny," Castiel called as he spun quickly on one foot, arrow knocked in his bow. The entire line of soldiers scrambled backwards one step, leaving Benny in the direct line of fire. Castiel turned to the side and loosed his arrow, watching as it soared across the field and planted itself firmly in the top of a thick wooden post that had to be fifty feet high. Dean's eyes widened at how effortlessly the alpha had hit his mark, knowing that his own skills with a bow were sadly lacking. "Thank you for volunteering. Retrieve the arrow."

Benny snorted and bowed mockingly, making a show of pulling up his sleeves as he walked toward the pole. "I'll get that arrow, pretty boy. And I'll do it with my shirt _on_."

Castiel reached out a hand and touched Benny's shoulder, pausing the burly alpha in his planned leap. "One moment. You seem to be missing something." Metatron, who had been unusually silent since Castiel appeared, joined the captain with two large, thick bronze disks in his arms, clearly struggling under the weight. Castiel took one of them and hooked the thick strap that ran through the middle over Benny's right wrist, holding the man's arm up for a moment. "This represents discipline." As soon as he released Benny's wrist, the man's arm dropped toward the ground as he realized just how heavy thick plates of bronze could be. Castiel grabbed his left arm and repeated the procedure with the other weight, his face impassive as he continued. "And this represents strength. You'll need both to reach the arrow."

Benny growled something unpleasant, heading for the pole with the weights dragging on his wrists. Normally, he could have climbed something as simple as that, but the weights pulled him down every time he tried, exhausting the man long before he was willing to admit defeat. Many of the other soldiers tried, even the slim alpha girl who had been standing next to Dean, but no one got any higher than Benny had his first try. Dean rubbed his sore butt as he headed back to his place in line, having fallen a lot harder than most of the other soldiers when he tried the climb, Castiel sighing as he watched all of them fail. "We've got a long way to go."

* * *

Claire was glad that her dad let her into the army and let her train with the other soldiers, but the first day was only half over and she was exhausted. She had tried to climb the pole, just like the other alphas, but she barely made it two feet up before the weights dragged her down. She knew her dad, knew that it was some kind of test, but she couldn't for the life of her figure it out. After the failed pole climb, Castiel had taken them back to basics with bo staffs, which at least she was mildly decent at. She caught her staff in the air as they were tossed to the soldiers, watching with a slight frown on her face as the other young alpha, the blond boy with faded green eyes, was tripped by Benny with a staff before it was tossed to the ground at his feet. Claire knew that alphas could be cruel to each other, especially when establishing their dominance in a new pack setting, but she hadn't seen the boy do anything to deserve that. He didn't even growl, flash his eyes, or do anything to fight back, just accepting the insult before taking his staff.

She faced off against him during part of the training, appalled by his clumsiness and terrible moves. Had his father ever trained with him when he was a pup? She tried her best to help him, to correct his stance, but every mistake he made earned him a jeer from his fellow soldiers and the boy just got worse. When Castiel, who had watched all of the soldiers train with the same unimpressed scowl, called a break at sunset for a meal, Steve slunk off to the trees near the edge of camp, rubbing at his abused muscles and clearly not in the mood to fight through the queue of soldiers for supper.

Claire, who would normally eat with her father in his tent, met her aunt Anna at the food table and asked for two servings of rice, vegetables, and the small ration of chicken that each person was allowed. Eyebrow raised, Anna obeyed the girl, watching as the blonde waif bounced off toward the edge of camp and that Steve boy who seemed so determined not to be seen.

* * *

Well, that was a disaster. If his first day of training could have gone worse, Dean couldn't imagine it. Kevin and Cri-Kee, that lucky cricket who apparently thought he owed the omega a life debt, had stayed behind in the tent, though he was sure that they would come to help him train as soon as they realized how hopeless he was. He knew the moves, and generally he had a great sense of balance, but the hostility he scented from the alphas and betas around him kept throwing him off, and the herbs he had to take made him a little lightheaded at times. Dean was sure he could adjust to these small problems, but he really wasn't as strong or fast as a true alpha, and that would become apparent the longer he trained with them. If desertion wasn't more dishonorable than getting kicked out of the Chinese Army, he would consider it.

The blonde girl who couldn't be any older than Adam approached Dean in his self-imposed exile, a bowl in each hand as she settled into the grass beside him. She was a true alpha, already very strong and fierce, and she had beat him with the staff pretty much all afternoon. Without saying a word or making eye contact, the girl placed her second bowl on the ground and pushed it toward him, the smell of seasoned chicken making his stomach growl.

Slowly, when he was sure that the girl wasn't trying to trick him, Dean reached out for the food, pulling the bowl into his lap and taking the chopsticks resting neatly on top. "Uh, thanks."

"Sure, Steve, no problem. I saw that you weren't really feeling up to standing in that line, and Anna's my aunt so I could just cut to the front. I don't normally want to abuse my relationships, especially here, but I thought you needed something to eat."

"I really did, thanks," Dean replied, shoveling the food into his mouth as fast as he could. It wasn't as good as what his mother made, but for mass-produced army fare it wasn't terrible. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"I'm Claire."

"And you're an Imperial? You said that Anna is your aunt."

"Yeah, technically. My dad is Castiel, but my mom was a concubine who tricked him and got pregnant during his first rut. She got sent away, he kept me. I don't want to live on his name the rest of my life, so I was hoping to kill some Huns and earn some honor."

Dean looked away at that, remembering his conversation with his dad about being sold to some noble as a concubine. Claire's mother seemed manipulative and vicious, though the emperor himself had multiple concubines of his own that he apparently cared for very much. He hoped that his hesitation would be covered by the rice he was still powering through. "I have a younger half-brother by my father's concubine. Mom didn't like her much, so we sent her away, but he stayed with us. I hope he's never felt like he wasn't one of us."

Claire shrugged. "I have a lot of aunts and uncles who are only half-siblings to my dad, and most of them have a decent place in the Court. Granddad couldn't really legalize them, not with the way Grandma views concubines, but my dad is going to grant me some titles when he finds a mate someday. Still, I want to earn a place of my own if that takes a long time."

Dean tilted his head, already warming to the teen. This girl was probably the only noble even close to his assumed age, so he was grateful that she, at least, didn't seem to want to fight. It seemed that every other alpha here watched him with red-ringed eyes all the time, and that was quite a bit beyond what he would have expected after their first-day fiasco. "I'm surprised your dad isn't mated yet. Isn't he thirty already? That's a bit older than the alphas in my village are when they head to the Matchmaker's hut."

Claire shrugged. "We have a family matchmaker in the palace, and she's offered to help Dad out, but he seems to think that our Ancestors will bring the right omega when it's time. Until that happens, he's going to serve in the army and push the Huns back from our wall. She offered to start looking for me as soon as we return, but I don't think I'm old enough."

Dean nodded in agreement. Sam was technically old enough to visit the Matchmaker, but as he had not earned any honor of his own yet it would be better if he waited a few years. John would want the boy to serve in the army before settling down, but Dean was determined to keep that from happening. There must be some omega out there who would be happy to have a scholar for a mate, even if he was an alpha. "I've visited the Matchmaker, but I don't think I'll find what I want in my village. Dad offered to take me to the Imperial City . . . before the summons came, that is. Now . . . now I don't know if that could ever happen."

Claire tilted her head curiously and sniffed the air. She was still young enough to search for a scent explanation in any situation; Sam still did it from time to time, too. "I mean, won't you come home from the war with enough honor to earn a mate from the City? Your dad's name is still powerful back where I'm from, and people remember him and his family fondly. I think your older brother was born there, right? A lot of nobles would be honored to mate their pups to one of John Winchester's."

"If we come back from war," Dean whispered despondently. "After today . . ."

"Don't think like that, Steve. I know that today was rough, but you'll get better. You're just nervous, being around all these other strange alphas. Give it a chance."

"I hope you're right, Claire."

* * *

If Dean thought there was a chance his training would get better, he was sorely disappointed over the next week. He was terrible at staff fighting, as most of the alphas would gang up on him and prevent him from finishing the day's training, though Castiel never seemed to catch them. Claire tried to chase them off in the beginning, but Benny and Balthazar egged the rest of the soldiers on and she wasn't big enough to protect him. Castiel taught them archery, frowning at the lack of prowess among his recruits, though Dean could get an arrow on the right tree from time to time. The martial arts training, part of which required him to balance a bucket of water on his head and deflect rocks that his fellow recruits lobbed at him, was a little easier for the omega, as he did have a natural grace that took the alphas longer to master.

Castiel had an odd fishing method that he wanted the recruits to learn, one that must be more popular near the Imperial City than in Dean's landlocked village. He would stand in the river behind camp and wait for a fish to swim near, then throw his hand into the water and grab one by its tail. It looked ridiculous, but the alpha was fast, and none of the soldiers could manage the feat. Even Claire, who had seen most of her father's training methods before, was stumped. The captain also had an exercise where the recruits would cross the river by jumping from one tall post to the other, something that Charlie, who so far hadn't joined in the alphas harassing Dean, was actively terrible at. She had managed to make most of the recruits fall in the water by the middle of the second week, losing her balance or her nerve usually halfway across. Dean learned from Claire that the beta's parents had died in some fishing accident, but Castiel was never going to care that the girl was afraid of water. He tried to encourage her once, but Benny and Balthazar chased Dean away from their friend and he didn't feel like fighting with them.

Balthazar also had a worst event, and Castiel was no easier on his full brother and sister than he was on the rest of the recruits. There was a martial arts move where the soldiers were expected to break a stone with their foreheads as a show of precision, focus, and strength. They started with wooden boards, Castiel explaining that the injuries they sustained in the early attempts would heal and make them stronger, eventually letting the soldiers move up to concrete blocks, one of which he broke with ease in front of the class. If Dean learned anything from his attempts to strike the board, it was that he had a very hard head but poor aim. Balthazar had worse aim, poor focus, and a body that was too accustomed to palace life to sustain even the lightest hits. Anna did slightly better, and Benny nearly managed to break one at the end of the week, but the rest of the class was painfully slow at learning the skill.

Safe in his tent, without the looming threat of war breathing down his throat, Metatron took notes on the trainees, his scowl more disappointed than Castiel's exasperated frowns. The old beta was under no illusions that this ragtag group of pampered nobles could ever form an army unit strong enough to threaten the Huns, and he looked forward to telling Zachariah how Castiel had failed in his training.

By week two, Dean had become accustomed to his herbs and eye drops, feeling a great deal more like himself. He was still terrible with the staff, with the weaponless sparring, with that weird fish thing, and with breaking boards, but his aim with the arrow was getting better. Castiel decided to increase the training regimen, hoping that his new motto of "Success or Death" would motivate his hoard of pupils. Every morning he stared at the arrow buried in the tall pole, and every morning he thought of a new way to test the soldier's abilities.

Day one was sword practice, thankfully with wooden weapons, but Dean was pretty sure that he ended up with more bruises from that than from staff practice. Claire snuck him a jar of cool, soothing ointment which he gratefully rubbed on his abused limbs while Kevin watched on apprehensively. Dean didn't want to disgrace his ancestors, or the little red dragon who was the symbol of their faith in him, so he woke up the next morning, took his herbs, and swore that he would make a good showing in the training class for the day.

Unfortunately, that training class was dodge flaming arrows, which were mostly harmless due to the lack of a sharp tip, but even getting grazed by one risked angry red burns on exposed skin. The soldiers donned their armor and tried to rush through the training field, every one of them cleaning scorch marks from their gear or bandaging ugly welts on their exposed skin that night. Benny had fared the worst, managing to catch his pants on fire at the end, and he even accepted Dean's help when the omega offered to clean the wound and bandage it. Benny growled at their captain that night over supper, but everyone knew that his anger was misplaced. He should have been faster, more agile, and the Huns would never cut him a break if he was too slow. If Benny and the other recruits couldn't learn to run and dodge, they wouldn't last a day in a real war.

Day three the recruits were allowed to spend the entire day caring for their horses, cleaning their tack, or polishing their swords and armor. Everyone knew why, but no one was stupid enough to call Castiel out on needing a day off from his recruits. Claire spent the day with her father and Dean managed to sit with the alphas without starting a fight, but none of them thought there was a chance that they could ever be real soldiers. Castiel was expected to beat them into shape in only three weeks, and the Huns were getting ever closer to the Imperial City. What good were they going to be against that?

Day four was a change of pace, returning to staff training in the morning and intense martial arts in the afternoon. Dean managed to land one blow on Castiel during their session, but the bruises on his chest and face spoke to the alpha's greater speed and accuracy. Kevin and Cri-Kee, who had come to watch their boy fight, tried to encourage him as much as possible as he moved to Balthazar, but the lean alpha was just as much of a challenge as his brother. By the end of the day, struggling to get a spot in line for his meal, Dean knew that he was quickly becoming the worst student. Maybe he had been vain, thinking that an omega could pose as an alpha; he had been stronger than a lot of the young men in his village, but these noble alphas and betas were a far greater challenge. He flinched away and avoided eye contact whenever he sensed Castiel staring at him, hoping against hope that he could just make it through training and get himself killed by a real, live Hun instead of a flaming practice arrow.

Day five was cloudy and dark, the mountains threatening rain as a bitter wind blew out of the north. Castiel introduced the troops to cannons, the one true advantage the Chinese had over the Huns and the rest of their enemies. Each recruit learned the explosive properties and safe storage of gunpowder, lining canons up along the practice field and attempting to destroy a target that looked suspiciously like an overweight Hun. Benny, Balthazar, Charlie, Anna, and Claire each managed to land their shot in the field, but Dean's shot was thrown wildly off the mark by a well-timed kick from his lean nemesis. His canon destroyed Metatron's tent, though not the scribe himself, and earned him a fierce reprimand from the captain. Dean accepted the censure without a word, silently wondering why his ancestors had any faith in him at all.

"I don't know if I can last any longer, Kevin," the omega admitted that night as he curled up on his mat and huddled under his thin blanket. "I was a terrible omega, but I'm an even worse alpha. I can't seem to do anything right."

"Nonsense, you're doing great," Kevin replied, using a small cloth to clean soot from the boy's face. "We have faith in you, and we know that you'll make it through training and become the best warrior China has ever seen! It was bound to be hard at first, you just need to push through it. What's the challenge for tomorrow?"

"Something about endurance. Omegas aren't really known for their ability to run long distances, only for short bursts. I've never run further than from our farm to the village, and some of these guys have been running the mountain trails for most of their lives."

Kevin shrugged, running his claws through Dean's sooty hair in an attempt to straighten it. "In the other camp, the one not for nobles, the alphas from your village are probably doing the same training. If they can make it, you can make it."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. "Alright, Kev. Thanks."

* * *

Castiel watched the sun rise over the mountains as his recruits gathered near the base of one, some of them staring at the path that snakes up the side and the others looking at the thick bamboo poles with attached bags of rice piled neatly to one side. He counted heads as the formation came together, noting his daughter standing near the back with that hopelessly clumsy alpha, Steve. Castiel kind of liked the boy from time to time; he seemed nice, Claire spent all of her time with him, and he might even have been doing better in training if the other alphas would stop harassing him for one minute. He couldn't take pity on Steve, though; an alpha who wasn't willing to stand up to his teammates wouldn't be much use on the battlefield, and the others just treated him like a beta runt. They would never respect him, and an unwanted soldier was one of the few things that could destabilize an entire unit.

Castiel waited for Metatron to ride up on his horse, clipboard in hand, before reaching down for one of the long poles and swinging it over his shoulders. The sacks of rice, which would at some point be boiled for consumption, were heavy but not unreasonably so. As was his custom when training recruits, Castiel didn't bother with a shirt, though most of the recruits still wore theirs. Benny joined him and took one of the poles, Balthazar and Charlie following quickly behind him. Claire took hers and staggered somewhat under the weight, but she was just past her first rut so all of those hormones would give her plenty of strength to complete this challenge. Steve was last, as usual, but he didn't seem to mind the weight at all. Satisfied that his small army was ready, Castiel turned toward the mountain trail and started jogging up it.

The alpha had never measured the distance, but he was pretty sure that the path he had chosen was almost thirty miles long, snaking from one peak across a spindly bridge to another before returning to the ground. The first five miles were easy, everyone keeping pace with their leader and barely panting, other than Metatron who enjoyed complaining even though he was on the back of a horse. Castiel silently urged the brown beast to throw his rider off a cliff, but alas animal telepathy was not one of his gifts.

The second five miles were harder on the soldiers. Alone, Castiel could do the entire path in four hours, and his older brothers Michael and Lucifer often trained with him doing just that. As the laziest of Chucks four legitimate alpha sons, Balthazar had never joined them, and he was clearly regretting that decision now as he struggled to keep pace with the captain. Benny, Bartholomew, and Castiel's younger half-siblings Muriel, Benjamin, and Hannah ran in the lead with him, while Charlie and Anna stayed in the middle to encourage the struggling soldiers and Claire ran with her friend Steve at the back, Metatron keeping pace with them. The group spread out more as the hours passed, the speed slowing from a brisk run to a loping trot that was barely faster than walking. As long as everyone was keeping the same speed, Castiel had no complaint, but he did let himself fall back to run with Metatron as they neared the top of the first mountain, knowing that he would lose the group if he stayed up front.

Just before they reached the bridge that would cross to the second mountain and the downhill half of their run, Metatron coughed to get Castiel's attention, nodding toward the back of the pack. Castiel turned and frowned as he watched Steve struggle to keep running, wobbling on uncertain legs as his heavy bags pulled him to the side. As soon as the alpha fell, Castiel turned back and jogged toward him, his scent drowning in disapproval. Steve looked up with his murky green eyes, struggling to rise on legs that wouldn't stop shaking. He froze at Castiel's growl, watching helplessly as the captain reached down and hoisted his pole, easily settling the second pair of rice sacks over his shoulders. He watched the young recruit collapse in shame as he turned and ran back to the group, leaving this feeble, useless pup behind. He didn't look back again, nodding at Metatron as the old beta marked something on his clipboard. Steve, despite his illustrious parentage, would never make a good soldier.

* * *

Dean laid on that dusty trail for hours before he managed to rise and limp his way back to camp. His legs were still on fire, and his arms just hung limply by his side, exhausted from carrying the pole and bags of rice for ten miles. He had been doing fine for the first five miles or so, but the longer they ran the further he fell behind until he just fell. Kevin, who had ridden along tucked in the back of his shirt, had been silent since Castiel took the pole and jogged away, both of them knowing that this was the end of the omega's time in the Chinese Army. He would be sent home in disgrace, and he would have failed both his brother and his ancestors. When Metatron came to his village to recruit soldiers next time, Sam would have to go.

"You tried your best," Kevin whispered, Cri-Kee unusually silent on Dean's shoulder as he slowly entered camp.

"I should have been better," Dean growled, feeling the first slow burn of anger deep in his chest. For the first time since he joined the army, he let his fury grow, knowing that his eyes would be glowing omega gold if it weren't for the stinging drops he put in that morning. "I'm too alpha for my village but not alpha enough to keep up here? What the hell is wrong with me?"

Cri-Kee chirped something and Kevin snorted, shaking his head. "That's terrible advice."

"What did he say?"

"He said that you should start being yourself."

Kevin and Cri-Kee dove back into Dean's shirt as the omega reached the open courtyard, raising his head to meet the red-tinged eyes of his captain. "You're not suited for the rage of war, no matter how excellent your lineage," Castiel growled, throwing a tied scroll at Dean's feet. He recognized it as his conscription notice; returning it was a clear dismissal from the training program. "Pack up your things and go home; you're done here. After today, I don't see how I could make a warrior out of you." With that, the raven-haired alpha spun on one heel and stalked away, returning to his tent as Dean stood in the center of the open courtyard, alone.

A snicker from the tents to the left caught his attention as Benny and Balthazar emerged into the rising moonlight. "You're the worst excuse for an alpha that I have ever seen," the bigger man jeered, pointing at the scroll on the ground. Bartholomew, Ishim, Inias, and Isaac joined Benny on one side of the omega, while Balthazar and his three half-siblings hovered on the other side. As betas, the three of them were more interested in watching the troublemaker get chased out of the camp, but the alphas all had eyes ringed with varying levels of red and they were spoiling for a fight. Dean's first instinct, his omega instinct, was to submit to this horde of alphas, to avoid the fight that had been building for two weeks, but Cri-Kee's suggestion, _you should start being yourself_ , rang in the back of his mind. And Dean Winchester had never, in his twenty years, backed down from an alpha.

An instant later, Dean struck.

He lunged toward Balthazar, both because he hated that lean blond the most and because he only had a trio of curious young betas for backup. The alpha yelped as the omega decked him, giving him a black eye and probably a broken nose, kicking out as Muriel jumped on his back. He threw her halfway across the empty field, closing with her mate Ishim and tearing into him with claws and teeth before twisting his arm behind his back and using him as a launching point to close with Inias and Isaac.

The two alphas hadn't anticipated this rage, and they quickly retreated after exchanging a few blows with the big omega, though Bartholomew and Benny jumped Dean as soon as they moved away. Dean roared his fury, sounding exactly like the alpha he had been playing for two weeks, falling backwards and burying an elbow into Benny's side as he slammed the alpha to the ground, wrapping his legs around Bart's chest in the same motion. Benny grunted and tried to roll away as Bart screamed, the sound of his ribs breaking encouraging the other combatants to retreat to the safety of their tents. Benny managed to get free as Dean used the martial arts skills he had learned in camp to toss Bart, watching unsympathetically as the alpha landed wrong on his left wrist and twisted it painfully to the side. Balthazar grabbed Bart and pulled him away from the growling omega, snapping his teeth in an ineffectual threat display as all of the alphas and betas retreated.

Kevin, who had grabbed Cri-Kee and dashed for the safety of the pole in the center of the camp as soon as the fighting started, slunk back to Dean's side, resting his claws gently on the side of the omega's leg. "Well, if that's you being yourself, it's certainly the most alpha I've seen from you in the past two weeks."

Dean, the gold faded completely from his eyes, chuckled as he wiped the blood from his lip. He wasn't sure which of the alphas had managed to land a hit, but he had felt a surge of satisfaction when he heard Bartholomew's ribs break. At least that arrogant asshole would suffer greatly from that injury, even if Dead did have to go home in shame.

The omega looked down at the conscription notice on the ground, turning away from it to stare at the heavy pole reaching fifty feet into the sky with its single arrow mocking the camp. "I don't want to leave, Kevin," Dean murmured, slowly walking toward the pole and the weights sitting patiently on the ground nearby. "This arrow thing . . . it's a test. If I can figure it out . . ."

Three hours later, with dawn creeping nearer, Dean still was no closer to the answer. He was still tired from the climb and he had to be out of camp before Castiel woke. Turning away, Dean lowered his arms to release the attached straps, watching in exhausted fascination as the two weights swung toward each other and the straps twisted, holding for a moment before releasing each other. A surge of realization filled the young omega and he spun back to the pole, swinging both arms forward hard enough that the weights spun around each other, effectively knotting their straps and giving him a new way to climb the pole.

Using the straps to hold his weight, Dean pulled himself the first few feet off the ground, placing his feet against the wood beneath him to keep balance. He was holding all of his weight with his arms, fingers wrapped in a death grip around the black straps as he swung the weights higher and pulled. Slowly, using this method, Dean inched his way higher and higher on the pole as the sun peeked through the mountains and touched the arrow sticking out of the top. He heard shuffling below him as the other recruits started to stream out of their tents to prepare for the day's training and spotted him nearing the top of the pole. To his surprise, he heard calls of encouragement and hoots, even Balthazar and Benny calling his name. He nearly slipped barely a foot from the top, but calls of "You can do it!", "Don't give up, Steve!", and "Prove that you're a real alpha!" gave him the strength to tighten his grip and pull himself just a little higher. A moment later, he reached the top of the pole and pulled himself up, sitting on the top as he jerked the arrow free.

* * *

Castiel groaned at the noise outside his tent, distinctly remembering his orders to the recruits that they would assemble _silently_ every morning. It was barely time for breakfast; why were they being so ridiculously loud? He glanced at Claire, who had just finished braiding her hair, and nodded toward the door of their tent, flinging it open with a furious command on his lips.

All words faded as an arrow whistled down and sunk itself into the ground at his feet, the metal tip making a satisfying _shunk._ He looked up, disbelief in his azure eyes, to find _Steve Winchester_ sitting on the top of the pole at the center of camp, the weights slung over his shoulder as his fellow recruits jumped and cheered from the ground. How was it that he was the first one to figure out the test, and why were the alphas and betas who had harassed him for two weeks now singing his praises?

"He beat the leaders up last night," Anna whispered from his side, smiling at the alpha sitting so proud fifty feet above camp. "I guess he was angry, really angry, and he just lost it. He broke a couple of Bart's ribs and bloodied up Balthazar, Benny, Muriel, Ishim, Inias, and Isaac. Cool fight; you should have watched." Claire nodded from her aunt's side; apparently she had seen it, too. "It's about time he stood up for himself."

"He fought them? He _beat_ them, all of them? And he reached the arrow . . ." Castiel raised his head to meet Steve's eyes from across the field, and for the first time they didn't look faded or muddy. That alpha had eyes the color of Imperial Jade, the loveliest shade of green that Castiel had ever seen in his life. Something flashed in his mind, some memory of green eyes, but it was gone before he could grab it. Steve smirked at Castiel from his perch, reaching up to touch the weights slung over his shoulder as a reminder that he had played by the alpha's rules. His eyes seemed to flash gold for a moment, but that had to be a trick of the rising sun shining directly on the boy. Smiling, Castiel bowed his head in acknowledgement of the feat and acceptance of the alpha's place in the army. Walking through the gathered soldiers, the captain leaned down and grabbed Steve's conscription notice, raising it in the air triumphantly before tucking it in his belt to the raucous cheers of the alphas and betas clustered around him. If Steve had learned how to stand up for himself enough to have the respect of his fellow recruits and he was smart enough to figure out Castiel's test, he could stay.


	5. The Showdown

Chapter 5: The Showdown

* * *

Dean rushed back to his tent after descending the pole and showing the other recruits his method so they could spend the rest of the morning practicing. He knew that his eye drops had worn off, but no one seemed to have noticed the change and they hadn't done an omega gold flash or anything. His scent was starting to return, though, so he excused himself in a search of fresh clothes, which Castiel thankfully believed.

"Dean, you did it! Castiel totally believes you're a real alpha now."

Dean chuckled as he stripped naked and used a wet cloth to quickly clean off the dirt and sweat from the last day before applying scent-blocking oil to his groin, underarms, and neck. "I almost believe it myself. Maybe Cri-Kee was right and I just need to be myself more often."

"But not too much yourself," Kevin added, using what tiny amount of fire breath he could summon to heat up some tea for his charge, adding the scent blocking herbs. "You're lucky no one saw your eyes this morning."

"I wasn't expecting to be there all night. I'll be more careful next time."

Kevin handed over the tea and nodded, rifling through Dean's supplies for a cleaner training outfit. There was a faint scent of omega on the ones he had worn while climbing the pole, nothing that could be detected unless someone was touching the boy, but enough that his dragon guardian was worried. "I'll wash these today in case any of your real scent stuck. Now, you need to get out there and grab some breakfast before training starts. I don't expect Castiel to be any easier on you just because you climbed a pole."

Dean nodded and gulped back his tea, making a face at the bitter flavor as the heat nearly scaled his tongue. Finally dressed, he used a few drops of the alpha scent lotion on his neck and wrists, grabbing his belt and cinching it as he dashed out of the tent.

Dean reached the central training ground as Balthazar slid to the ground, his black eye darkening up nicely. Castiel watched like a proud father as each recruit was able to reach the top of the pole, the first time all of his soldiers had completed a training session. He looked up as Dean joined the group, narrowing his eyes in confusion for a moment before shaking his head. "Steve, Balthazar, and everyone else who has already climbed the pole, go start on staff practice. You'll have breakfast when everyone has finished the climb."

Dean nodded and turned toward the bin that held the staves, pausing as Benny reached it first and pulled out a handful of poles. He tossed one to Balthazar and a couple other hovering soldiers, turning toward Dean with the last staff as the omega watched him warily. Smiling, Benny held out the staff, nodding sharply when Dean hesitated, unsure if this was a trap or not. "Here you go, brother," Benny explained, smiling as the omega finally took the staff. "You're gonna need that for practice. I'll spar against Charlie and you take Balth."

"Ok," Dean replied uncertainly, turning to face the lean blond with his staff held in a defensive position. Balthazar bowed his head, unconcerned with his injuries from the night before, and swung his staff forward. Dean easily countered the move, grunting as the bamboo snapped back from the force of the impact and moving into the next form they had practiced. Slowly, without the alphas harassing him, tripping him, or ganging up on him, Dean managed to get through the entire exercise, grinning back at Balthazar as the alpha struggled to break through his defenses.

"Steve, he got in a bit of a brawl last night and he can't see well out of his left eye. Aim for his blind spot." Benny stood just behind Dean and pointed toward his friend, Balthazar growling something uncomplimentary about traitors to the crown. Having never had any kindness from the burly alpha, Dean nonetheless felt like the man was actually trying to help him, so he ducked low and swiped at Balthazar's left leg, grinning as his opponent hit the ground with a grunt.

"Damn, Benny, don't help the boy out! It's bad enough that I can't see without you actively sabotaging me."

"You should put some ginger cream on that," Dean offered, not sure if his suggestion would be welcomed after causing the injury in question.

Balthazar tilted his head and focused his one good eye on the tall omega. "I think I have some in my medical pack. You think it will help?"

"Ginger reduces swelling. If you make a cold compress with some snow from the mountain we ran up yesterday, that would help, too."

"Well, most of us ran up it," Anna teased as she joined the small group. "You kinda died out there at the end. Not used to running long distances?"

Dean shook his head. "I guess I neglected that facet of my training when I was younger. I've never liked running that much."

"Well, Cassie's gonna make us do it again, so you might want to get better at it. I can show you some stretches and warmups that will make it easier."

"That would be great, thanks," Dean replied. Castiel called breakfast a moment later, and the other alphas bolted, eager for a meal before the long day of training ahead of them, leaving Dean alone in the staff practice area. "I don't understand," he whispered.

"You kicked their asses last night," Claire piped up, appearing out of nowhere to help him gather up the abandoned staves. "Alphas respect a good ass kicking, and they see you as one of them now. I can't believe your dad never taught you that."

"I don't have any alpha siblings," Dean replied, shrugging. "I was just so angry at everything, and they were spoiling for a fight . . ."

"Sure, ever since that rice incident. I didn't see it, but I've been hearing about it for weeks. Alphas hold grudges, and they have been waiting for a chance to fight that out with you. You won, so they'll accept you now. Welcome to the army."

Dean snorted as he walked with Claire to the food tent. "It can't be that easy. I mean, yeah, they were cheering this morning, but they'll go back to harassing me or avoiding me pretty soon."

Claire grinned and shook her head as they reached the food line, alphas and betas alike moving out of their way and directing them toward the front of the line. Bart, who was manning the food tent on account of his wrapped ribs and sprained wrist, pushed a bowl of rice toward Dean, a few slices of fish on top with wilted but still edible vegetables on the side. "Go on, you'll need your strength for training today."

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers waiting patiently for him to take his breakfast, even Ishim, with bandages covering bites and bloody claw marks from the fight, smiling warmly at him. "Uh, thanks. Are you . . . I hope you aren't in too much pain."

Bart snorted, clutching at his side as the movement aggravated his ribs. "I am, but I'll heal. I'd like you to show me that move, the rib cracker one, that you used, and that throw. I don't remember using that in training, or seeing you use it."

"Or that thing where you used Ishim as a springboard to jump Inias and Isaac," Anna added. "Cas frequently talks about using your opponent's strength against them, but I don't think I really understood it before last night."

"Today we are working on marksmanship," Castiel interjected, walking up to the food table and accepting a bowl from Bart. "Tomorrow is martial arts again, and Steve is welcome to show off any tricks he learned while kicking your asses last night."

A rumble of laughter followed the words, the soldiers moving forward to grab their breakfast as Dean followed Claire off to the side of the training area to eat. Charlie joined them, taking a seat on a log as she tore into her meal, nodding as Balth and Benny joined them. Dean watched them warily for a moment, but they didn't do anything other than eat so he dug into his meal, too.

The marksmanship classes went a lot better than they had the week before. Dean wasn't sure why or how, but everyone's aim had improved, and most of them could hit an apple in the air by the end of the day. He was dead tired, though, having missed sleeping the night before, so he completely crashed when he reached his tent that night, barely noticing when Kevin pulled his blanket up and tucked him in.

Somewhat fresher the next day, Dean was pleased to find that the other soldiers' acceptance was going to be a permanent thing, as Claire had promised. He sparred against a dozen of his fellow recruits, only getting thrown into a tree once and winning more matches than expected. Finally, after a hellish week of living at the bottom of the totem pole, Dean remembered that he wasn't actually terrible at fighting, and some of the things he had learned from his father came back to him. John hadn't minded teaching his omega son how to fight, reasoning that everyone should be able to protect themselves to some extent, but Dean had picked up more than he thought. He could sense when someone was watching him, certainly an omega trait, and he was becoming adept at anticipating his opponent's moves. He took time to teach Claire some of what he could do, and the young alpha improved with each suggestion.

Day two post-pole they returned to the fishing exercise, which most people still couldn't manage to do well, but Castiel complimented their form and the attempt, which is more than they got the first time. They practiced slamming their heads into things that afternoon, and Balthazar was learning that his skull was very, very thick. He was slowly developing the focus that would be required to target his energy at a piece of wood in order to snap it, and the other recruits were determined to learn it, as well. The entire day they improved, infuriatingly slow at some things, but terrifyingly fast at others. Two days into the third week, Dean found himself sitting next to Castiel at supper, completely worn out from training but somehow energized by the memory of his wins. Benny had even congratulated him, patting the young omega on the shoulder after being laid out flat on the ground by his bo staff.

Castiel looked up as Dean joined him, not having much room on the crowded benches and hoping that his captain wouldn't mind. Claire was nowhere to be seen, choosing to sit with her aunt and uncle near the food tent that evening, and the captain had looked somewhat lonely. "Uh, I hope you don't mind, sir."

"Everyone has to eat," was the prince's reply, and that seemed to be acquiescence so Dean settled down. He tore into his lightly sauced noodles with gusto, wishing for more varied meals but understanding that this was just the way of things in the army. He was kinda glad that Sam was back home, eating healthier meals and sleeping in a comfortable bed. How would the kid have survived in the army, Dean wondered.

"You did good today," Castiel murmured around his food, not looking at Dean even though it was clear who he was talking to. "I thought you were hopeless with the staff at first."

"I, uh, kinda was," Dean admitted. "It's not really one of the weapons my dad trained me on, so it took me time to get a grasp of the forms." He poked at some unidentifiable vegetable hidden among the lo mein, biting at his lower lip nervously. "Uh, th-thank you, sir. F-for letting me stay. I don't know if I really deserved to."

"You didn't," Cas replied gruffly, his voice, as usual, deeper and rougher after a day of yelling at recruits. "I'm not entirely certain you do now, but you climbed the pole. It takes more than just brute strength to manage that, and your accomplishment spurred on the rest of the troops. You have all managed to improve somewhat in your practices, so that success of yours, though small, was enough to earn you the three weeks. You're still not very good, any of you."

Dean, well used to Castiel's critical and blunt manner, chuckled into his supper. "Well, I guess I'll just have to keep improving, won't I?"

"Why?" Castiel scoffed, finally looking up from his meal. "To impress me? I warn you, pup, I don't impress easily."

"I don't give a shit about impressing you, sir," Dean snapped back, knowing better than to offer an outright disrespect but learning how to challenge without offending from his time among so many alphas and dominant betas. "I will beat you, though."

Castiel's blue eyes brightened at that, the faintest tinge of red teasing the edges. "Will you, _boy_? I'd like to see that."

"So would most of the rest of the camp," Dean retorted, growing bolder the longer he spoke with the captain. When he snapped at alphas in his village, his mother or one of the other myriad adults in his life would pull him back, order him to behave, remind him that he was a gentle, sweet omega who shouldn't speak like that or show anger at any time. Here, in the army, the other soldiers welcomed his anger and pushed right the fuck back, and that was expected. This was his new normal, and Dean was loving every second of it.

Castiel chuckled, flashing his fangs in a feral way that set Dean's heart thudding in his chest. _Whoa_ , he whispered in the privacy of his own mind, _let's not get too caught up in this alpha. He can never be a potential mate, or my entire plan is ruined. He's hot, but nothing to get bothered about, okay heart? Hormones? Everyone good in there?_ He felt his heartrate return to normal as he raised his chin dismissively, showing Castiel that he didn't see him as a threat. "The pup has teeth," the captain teased, knowing that a small crowd was watching their verbal sparring match. "Let's see if you _can_ beat me, Steve the alpha son of John Winchester. Let's see." He picked up his empty bowl and stalked away at that, his challenge clear to the camp. They were just recruits, and Castiel was a captain with fifteen or so years of experience in the Imperial Army; there was no way Steve was ever going to beat him in anything. They weren't averse to seeing him try, however.

Grinning, Dean returned to his limp, sad lo mein with gusto.

* * *

The next day, Dean threw himself into archery training with a new enthusiasm. He didn't miss a single arrow, and neither did anyone on his team. Benny, Balthazar, Charlie, Anna, and Claire were his constant companions now, urging him to greater feats of strength or accuracy while showing him tricks that they used to get there. He taught them, too, able to focus more easily than the others, able to move more silently, and able to outperform them in pretty much any agility exercise. If Castiel noticed that Dean's group of companions improved faster than the other soldiers, he never said, but he did grin at Metatron smugly when it became apparent that all of the recruits were beginning to pass his tests.

Dean learned how to run, realizing that his mistake before had been to assume that he couldn't do it. Anna showed him some stretches, and he even practiced at night when no one was watching, so when Castiel pointed at the pile of grain bags on bamboo poles four days into the last week, Dean was ready. He grabbed his and lined up with his fellow recruits, keeping speed with them all the way up the mountain, Castiel running somewhere near the middle of the pack. When it became clear that none of his recruits were going to fall behind, the captain pushed forward and ran at the front, watching Dean curiously as the omega matched his pace. They reached the bridge crossing between the mountains, the marker that the rest of the path would be downhill, and Dean just beamed, running ahead toward the camp and the end of this race. His fellow recruits, none of whom were nearly as slow as they had been the week before, called after him, some struggling to catch up while most recognized that the Winchester boy had something to prove and he didn't need their help with it. Castiel sped up, too, staying at the front of the pack of soldiers as he watched Dean jog ahead of him.

He could catch up, of course; he had run this course, or one like it, multiple times a year over the past decade. Still, it wasn't too bad of a view, watching that boy run away. Castiel almost fell as his thoughts zeroed in on Steve's backside, his traitorous subconscious commenting that any omega would be proud to have an ass that nice. _The hell,_ Castiel grumbled to himself; _there is no way I find one of my alpha recruits attractive. I mean, the freckles are kinda cute, and he really does have a nice ass . . . but he's an alpha. His scent is so muddy, I can't imagine anyone would find that appealing . . . and his eyes are dull._ The alpha's mind helpfully supplied the memory of Steve sitting on that pole, his eyes the bright, vibrant green of Imperial Jade, and he couldn't help but feel that sense of déjà vu again. The inability to place the color distracted his inner voice for a moment, but Castiel knew that it would return, eventually. There was no way he found that boy attractive, he insisted to himself.

* * *

"Last day of recruit training!" Kevin crowed, hopping around the tent and infecting Cri-Kee with his excitement. "After today, you'll be a real soldier, and your unit can march to the front."

"How do you know?" Dean replied grumpily, wiping sleep out of his eyes as he gulped down his tea. Kevin helpfully placed the eye drop bottle in his hands, waiting until the omega had applied the stinging liquid before answering.

"I overheard Metatron talking to the captain. The recruit training program lasts three weeks, and then you can go join the army and do drills with them until your unit is needed at the front."

"Awesome," Dean replied, tying his shirt closed before slipping into his shoes and heading for the training ground. "I am so ready to leave this place."

As this was the last day of training, apparently Castiel wanted his recruits to show how well they could do in each of the training exercises. They jumped across the river on the tops of narrow poles, Charlie leading the way with a grin on her face. She had learned balance, and she had fallen off enough times to know that she could swim back to shore without an issue and try again. They lined up for archery drills, and every single recruit hit every single flying target, arrows covered in apples buried in dozens of trees on the edge of camp. Anna had become particularly adept at it, shooting apples off of her friends' heads or out of their hands while they were moving, to the point that Castiel declared that they had all passed in order to save their dwindling fruit supply. Apples pierced by arrows tasted just fine, by the way.

Before lunch, they broke blocks with their foreheads, Balthazar leading the group with a mighty yell, grinning at his brother as the once impossible task now came effortlessly to him. Metatron watched the group without speaking, but his irritation was clear in his scent, so much so that Castiel politely reminded him that they were doing canon practice after lunch, and the scribe might not want to get soot on his nice robes. Huffing, Metatron left.

Claire led the group to the river not an hour before their normal lunchtime, walking out into the water with an odd look of concentration on her face. A moment later, her friends watching in silence, she jabbed her hand into the water and pulled out a fish, her claws buried in its slippery skin to prevent escape. There was a basket on the edge of the river, which Castiel had used to hold his catch when he was trying to teach the skill, and now his daughter tossed her fish inside. "What are you lazy asses waiting for? I'm not catching lunch all by myself!"

The army surged into the river, buoyed by the success of their youngest member and determined that they could master this skill, too. Some had already come close, but today was the first time that every member of the army—even Anna who was still working on her fear of water and Dean who was, by no means, the best grab-fisher—adding their catches to the basket. Some of the recruits had carried the first basket back to camp, and then the four that followed it, Bart lighting a string of fires and resting the fish on grates above them, running from one cluster to the other to turn them before they blackened too far. The army had fish for lunch, a lot of fish and not all of them the tastiest types, but they didn't care because Castiel was _smiling_. Well, his lips tilted up slightly at the edges, but it was the most happiness they had seen from the captain in three weeks, and his scent carried definite proud undertones, so they were content.

After lunch, they jumped into cannon practice, every single recruit destroying a target dummy, even Dean, whose aim had improved considerably without sabotage from Balthazar or one of his other teammates. When it was time to don their armor and run through flaming arrows, Benny proved to be the best of the lot, having learned how to anticipate where they would fly and avoid even the hint of being burned. Castiel actually clapped him on the back at that, proud that the alpha could overcome his embarrassing performance from the first attempt at this task.

They moved to martial arts practice after that, random pairs forming up around abandoned piles of armor as each soldier tried to deck their opponent. Dean took Benny down, moving on to Ishim and Inias before finding himself facing off against Castiel himself. Kevin and Cri-Kee, watching from the tree on the edge of the sparring field as usual, cheered him on as the omega faced down the strongest alpha there, dodging blows with an agility that his fellow recruits envied, not landing many punches but keeping his opponent on his toes long enough for Dean to find an opening. When he found one, a minor overextension when Castiel kicked, the omega went for the kill, lading three quick jabs and one roundhouse kick to the jaw that knocked the blue-eyed alpha to the ground.

Castiel rubbed his jaw and stared up at his opponent for a long, silent moment as the gathered recruits formed a loose circle around the pair. "Lucky hit."

"Prove it, old man," Dean taunted, his entire body vibrating with energy. He wanted to run, he wanted to fight, he wanted to fuck. He wasn't sure what was going on, exactly, but knocking his captain down, his captain with gorgeous eyes and a voice that could send any omega to their knees, had enervated him and his omega was howling with need. Dean could give it nothing but another fight, though he had learned since his presentation that often a fight was all he needed to gain control of himself.

The gathered soldiers began to yip and growl, calling a challenge to their captain that Castiel could not ignore. He pushed himself to his feet, holding out his hand as Claire brought him a heavy sword, Anna carrying Dean's to him. Neither one of them wore armor, but they both accepted the risk as they raised their blades to the sky and bowed, moving into defensive stances as they began to circle.

Dean was somewhat taller that Castiel, but the alpha was broader, with more strength through his shoulders and thighs from a lifetime of being allowed to be an alpha. Dean, with his omega constraints, was lean and lithe, but he certainly didn't have any strength to bring to bear against the other man. Still, it was a very fair fight, as Dean dodged the thrust of Castiel's sword and parried a few careful, probing attacks. This was the one event that the young recruit might excel at, as John had been teaching Sam sword drills for years and Dean would watch and do them, in secret, over and over again until he had them perfect. John didn't know that his omega son had carried this same sword to their garden and danced through the lessons that Sam ignored, hoping against hope that one day he would be allowed to fight like an alpha. Well, here was his chance.

When Dean finally did attack, Castiel predictably blocked his first thrust, backing up in shock as his opponent used the momentum to move closer instead of pushing back against the other sword as alphas were wont to do. Dean didn't attack with strength, he used cunning, and he did know how to turn his opponent's greater strength into a weakness. As they clashed across the yard, the crowd of recruits shuffling out of the way but otherwise silent, it became clear that the threat Dean had made at supper a few days ago had not been idle.

Castiel was still shocked when Dean slipped under his defenses and shifted his grip on the pommel of his sword, slamming the heavy metal into the side of the alpha's wrist. Cursing, Castiel felt his temporarily nerveless fingers drop his sword, and he knew the contest was over. He glared, eyes red, at Dean down the length of the boy's sword as dark green eyes flashed at him. "Yield," Dean whispered, smirking.

It took Castiel a long, quiet moment to accept his defeat, bowing his head fractionally as Dean pulled his sword away. Leaning down to collect his dropped weapon, the captain let his eyes, now back to their normal calm blue, meet Dean's turbulent green. "Not bad," he praised, turning to walk back to the main training field in front of the tents. "Staff practice before supper."

The other recruits filtered over to Dean in small clusters, patting him on the back or offering him a quick hug before dashing off to the main training field, collecting their armor as they went. Dean, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks, gathered his armor and began walking back to his tent, knowing that he had enough time to put it away before meeting the others on the field. Kevin and Cri-Kee jumped onto his shoulder as he walked past the tree, hiding in the back of his shirt in case he passed any other soldiers. "He said 'not bad'," Dean murmured. "That's the most praise I've ever gotten from him."

Kevin sniffed the air and shook his head, tiny claws digging into his charge's neck. "Don't be getting too excited, Dean. Anyone smells how much you liked that, your days as an alpha are over." Suitable chastised, Dean nodded, making sure to rub on more scent blocking lotion before heading out to the field. Still, something warm and glowing wriggled inside his chest, huddling against his heart when he remembered the captain's words.

Staff practice was a breeze after what he'd just been through, and the entire unit managed every single form perfectly, yelling _"hya!"_ in unison, thrusting their staves in unison, even jumping and landing in unison. Castiel had never been prouder, and Dean knew, deep down, that he had been responsible for a good portion of that. A week ago, the captain had been ready to throw him out of the army, and now he was one of the best students, even beating Castiel in a couple of exercises. Dean had never been happier.

* * *

Dean sighed in anticipation as he shed his training clothes, this set at least somewhat clean. He had spent the morning washing pretty much everything else he owned, all of it hanging on a line near his tent to dry in the afternoon sun. He had spent the afternoon relaxing, reading strategy scrolls near the training field with his new friends, finally leaving them and heading for a much-needed bath in the calm lake.

Crystal Lake was named for the mountains reflected in its brilliant blue surface, the water chilled from glacial runoff but generally pleasant until winter hit. Dean hung his clothes on a nearby tree, along with a long towel and his basket of cleaning supplies. He ducked into the water quickly, getting himself just wet enough that his soap would lather, quickly using a rough cloth to scrub away three weeks of grime and carefully cleaning his many small wounds. He wet his hair and used some of his lather to clean the dirt and oil away, rinsing quickly before tucking everything back in his basket. Now that he was clean, the omega slipped into the water for a relaxing soak, something that he had not known he would miss so much after leaving home.

Kevin, who had been guarding his charge while he quickly cleaned himself, heard the splash as Dean entered the water, clearly not ready to leave anytime soon. "Hey, oh, ah, no, this is not a good idea! What if somebody sees you?"

Dean rolled his eyes and ducked further under the water, glad for the dusk that hid him from any prying eyes. Kevin wasn't wrong, there was a danger to being naked near dozens of alphas and betas, but the omega wasn't worried. His fellow soldiers didn't seem to be fond of bathing. "Just because I look like an alpha doesn't mean I have to smell like one."

Kevin, who had covered his eyes with his long ears in an effort to offer his charge some privacy (and really, had he never seen an omega dick before?), snorted. "So a couple of guys don't rinse out their socks; picky, picky, picky. Well myself I kinda like that corn ship smell."

Dean found a rock not too far from shore, climbing up on it and jumping into the water with a vigorous _"ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"_ , splashing Kevin where he stood on shore. Cri-Kee barely missed being drowned, chirping something that was probably very unkind.

"Okay, all right, that's enough," Kevin growled, shaking himself to get rid of most of the water before drying himself with the corner of Dean's hanging towel. "Now, c'mon, get out before you get all pruny and stuff."

Dean, completely unconcerned as he floated serenely on his back not far from shore, turned his head slightly so he could see the little red dragon fuming at him from the lakeshore. "Kevin, if you're so worried, go stand watch."

Kevin threw his head and turned away, mimicking Dean's voice as he walked toward the edge of the reeds. "Yeah, yeah, 'stand watch, Kevin, while I blow our secret with my stupid omega habits'. Hmph, hygiene."

Cri-Kee chirped frantically and grabbed at Kevin's hanging whisker, his warning too late as a pack of screaming soldiers rushed past them, shedding clothes as they went. Benny tossed his pants in the direction of the reeds, the edge of it landing on Kevin and forcing the dragon to the ground. He gasped as he freed himself from the heavy fabric, grabbing Cri-Kee as he headed back to the lake, frantic. "Ah, we're doomed! There's a couple of things I know they're bound to notice!"

Benny, Balthazar, and Anna jumped straight into the cool water, completely unconcerned with their nudity, Charlie pausing a moment to test the temperature with her toe before leaping into the lake. She surfaced and pushed her long red hair out of her face, eyes brightening as she spotted Dean hiding behind a cluster of lily pads further out into the lake.

Benny spotted Dean at about the same time, treading water near the big rock outcropping as he wondered why the younger alpha was hiding. "Hey, Steve," he greeted, keeping his voice and scent (what could be smelled over the water, anyway), welcoming.

Dean cleared his throat and smoothed his hands over the lily pad that was currently shielding him from the other soldiers. Male omegas generally looked just like male alphas, except they tended to be leaner as they didn't put on muscle the same way, and they rarely had any body hair. The alphas of the Imperial family didn't, either, though Benny had enough to make up for the lack in his friends. Dean wasn't necessarily concerned that his upper body would give him away, or even his slightly narrower waist and hips that could one day bear children, but his dick would be a dead giveaway. Alphas and betas were larger, much larger, than omegas in most cases, though Dean was reasonably certain that he was pretty well endowed for his subgender. He'd seen both of his brothers naked, and he certainly wouldn't be losing any size competitions. Alphas had that darker, elastic skin at the base of their dick that would expand into a knot, but Dean didn't and it would be clear really quickly that he was lying about his subgender. Not to mention, he had much smaller, technically useless testicles and his scent would be much easier to detect once he was out of the water as he had already washed away all of his scent-blocking lotion.

Determined to avoid detection, Dean cleared his throat and carefully dropped his voice to the lower register he had been using since he arrived at the camp. "Oh hi guys, I didn't know you were _here_." The other four soldiers exchanged a glance that translate to, roughly, _"this boy is some kinda crazy,"_ but they waited for him to continue. "I was just washing, so now I'm clean and I'm gonna go. Bye, bye." He spat the words out as quickly as he could, inching toward shore on his tiptoes until he could reach shallower water. He wasn't sure how he was going to get away without being seen, but the reeds were pretty thick and he could probably avoid any uncomfortable or potentially dangerous situations.

Balthazar, who had managed to slip behind Dean, held out his hand, forestalling any further retreat. Swallowing hard, the omega paused, standing still in the chest-deep water as he tried to plan his escape. "Come back here. I know we were jerks to you before, so let's start over." Balthazar held out his unnaturally long right arm and smiled his face generally welcoming. "Hi, I'm Balthazar."

Dean, his left arm held protectively across his chest in some instinctive attempt to protect himself from his fellow soldiers, shook Balthazar's hand. "Heh, heh." He slowly backed away from the lean alpha, almost bumping into Charlie who had wandered into the lily pad cluster and now was wearing one of them on her head. Weird. "And I'm Charlie."

"Hello, Charlie."

"Anna," the other redhead offered casually from where she floated near shore.

"Anna, nice to meet you," Dean offered politely.

Benny, who had climbed to the top of the outcropping of rock just offshore, crossed his arms over his hairy chest and grunting proudly from his new position, catching his fellow recruits' attention. Dean felt the faintest blush warm his cheeks and he looked down, ordering his body not to react to the sight of a reasonably attractive, big male alpha with a not unimpressive . . . he mentally slapped himself at the thought, knowing that alphas and dominant betas frequently bathed together and they certainly never reacted to the sight of their fellows naked. Omegas were kept apart, protected from the raunchy activities of the more aggressive subgenders, and Dean was struggling to keep himself under control. He wasn't even sure if he was actually attracted to Benny, but his omega had become somewhat confused after three weeks of muted scents and being suppressed to allow for Dean's more aggressive side to come forward.

"And I am Benny, King of the Rock. And there's nothing you omegas can do about it."

Balthazar took a fighting stance, hands held forward in one of the many attack forms they had learned over the past few weeks. "Oh yeah?" He nudged Dean in the side, almost pushing him off balance, and the omega looked up at the alpha with wide greenish eyes. "Well I think Steve and I could take you."

Dean shook his head and backed away slowly. "I really don't want to take him anywhere."

Balthazar turned to face his new friend uncertainly, slowly lowering his hands. "Steve, we have to fight!"

"No, we don't," Dean replied, his voice wavering uncertainly. "We could just close our eyes and swim around."

Balthazar grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him forward, frowning at the boy's intransigence. "C'mon, don't be such an ome—ouch! Something bit me."

Kevin popped out of the water between Dean and Balthazar, spitting and shaking his head. "What a nasty flavor."

Balthazar, who had faced flaming arrows without an ounce of fear, screamed and jumped back. "Snake!"

Charlie took up the cry as she, Anna, and Balthazar climbed onto the rock beside Benny, eyes scanning the water for a glimpse of the creature that had taken a nibble of Balthazar's rear end. Dean, grateful for the distraction, swam to the reeds and stumbled onto shore, grabbing the towel he had left hanging by his clothes and wrapping himself up. He grabbed his clothes and bathing supplies before heading away from the water, searching for a small copse of trees out of the eyesight of the lake where he could dress in peace. Kevin, shaking the water off his scales, followed, Cri-Kee hopping along beside the dragon.

Balthazar, his arms crossed over his knees, glared into the still water below them. "Some King of the Rock," he growled, squealing when Benny shoved him into the water.

Dean, who had dried as quickly as possible, slipped into his pants and shirt, drying his hair and sighing in relief. "Boy, that was close."

"No, that was vile!" Kevin had grabbed a handful of cattails from the edge of the water and was running them over his tongue, desperate to clear the flavor of dirty alpha from his mouth. That lean blonde might smell like rosemary and mint, but he tasted like grave dirt and blood. "You how me big!"

Dean nodded as he packed his supplies away and turned back toward camp. "I never want to see a naked alpha again." He jumped back as dozens of alphas and betas thundered past them, their clothes flying in every direction as they jumped into the water and the promise of a peaceful bath after three long, harrowing weeks of training. Alphas and betas didn't seem to be as meticulous as omegas when it came to storing their clothes, he mused.

Kevin tossed his cattail toward the lake, glaring at his charge. "Hey, don't look at me. I ain't biting no more butts."


End file.
